Nordic Cross
by matsuoka gou
Summary: Elsie is a fifteen-year old Norwegian girl, a race which is now extremely rare in the ashes of what once was a beautiful world. She and many other people from certain nationalities are kept like cattle in large camps with wired fences around. She longs to be free like one of the boys - can she escape? / Fem!Norway x Denmark, rating may be changed in future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Norway

Nearly a hundred years ago, a world war erupted across the lands. Allies turned on each other, families were torn apart, whole countries burned to ashes. The result from the world destruction was the abolishment of all countries. There were no more official countries, just land stretching around the Earth. An area the size of Russia was cleared and a large fence built around it. Camps were built, and there were also regular cities and villages and towns for certain privileged nations.

Although countries weren't around anymore, people still had their nationalities. For example, Americans and Russians were the most powerful, Russians owning the land where the camps were built and Americans having a lot of power and wealth. The British, French, German, and a lot of other European countries and other countries were privileged as well, allowed to live outside the camps in various cities, towns and villages. The Danish were especially special, gaining control over many major cities.

However, some nationalities weren't as lucky. Norwegians, Swedish, Finnish, Polish, Lithuanian, Italian, Austrian, Australian, Irish, Scottish, Welsh, and many more were imprisoned within the camps. Russia and America had full control over these countries and kept them under control in the camps, known as concentration camps. Crimes were punishable by extreme punishments, even going as far as execution for certain crimes. These nationalities lived in fear.

When I was five, we lived under cover in a small cabin in the woods. My mother had died in childbirth, my siblings were living with me and my father was missing. It was a rough time in our lives, but I had my siblings alongside me, and we were looked after by some mysterious people. They were called Canadians – Canada used to be a country, before it too was destroyed. However, the Canadians escaped and lived outside the fence.

However, the Russians sent their armies out and they hunted out our cabins and captured us. My oldest brother was shot, my youngest sister shot in the leg, and the Canadians were executed. Publicly. One of the Canadians managed to escape again, and search parties had been searching for years. I was a Norwegian who had lived undercover, disguised as a Canadian. When I arrived in the fence, they interrogated me and my remaining siblings and we revealed our true Norwegian heritage.

We were pure Norwegians, a very rare occurrence in the camps. Most pure Norwegians were killed during the war, so we were kept in a very special camp for a while. One of my sisters died of an illness, and we were soon moved to the normal camps as if nothing happened. They never even removed her body from the premises, and the area was closed off.

I never told anyone I was from Norway. I kept quiet and usually stayed reserved from most people.

Now I sit, a fifteen year old girl, in my dorm room in the camps. They are incredibly cramped and the living conditions aren't of a good quality. But nonetheless, we live, and we go by our day-to-day business, keeping the fear of execution or punishment pushed back in our minds. I sit on my bed, my knees drawn up to my chest. I'm turning sixteen in a month, and then I will be expected to choose my future profession. I can either be an 'exotic dancer', a prostitute or a servant. I don't like any of the options – the boys get the chance to be in the military, or be a sailor or a merchant. Whereas girls are expected to choose between the three worst professions to decide from.

I look down at my hands and clench them together. I look up and see all the different nationalities around the room. My Chinese and Japanese friends are gathered in a circle, discussing their futures – an Italian is in the corner, wailing once again about the lack of pasta dishes in the camps. It's like an on-going comedy in this room. Then there's me, the out of place Norwegian. I'm younger than most of my siblings, so they're in different dorms, and I was split up from my final sibling last year when we were re-roomed and I was left alone.

"Aye, Elsie! What you doin' just sitting there on your own?" a loud, chirpy voice calls to me, and I look up. A Scottish girl stands, her ginger hair standing out against the dim light of the room. I offer her a weak smile.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just thinking."

"I've always wondered this, yanno. Ya've got this accent, and ah can't quite place my finger on it." She tilts her head, confused. "Where ya even from, anyway?"

Everyone's eyes seem to turn and face us. Curse this girl and her loud voice; now she's attracted attention. I take a deep breath – honesty is the best policy, right? Although there are barely any Norwegians left, and the ones who are left are seen as traitors to humanity.

"Norway," I say, and a feeling of dread spreads across the room like some kind of weird Mexican wave. People exchange horrified looks, whispers, people even scream out loud and move away from me. The Scottish girl stands her ground, and stares down at me.

"Aye…don't that mean ya're some kinda traitor to humanity or somethin'? That's what me mam said, anyway. She said I gotta stay away from them Norwegians, cause they ain't good news. Guessin' I gotta stay 'way from you, then?"

"I'm not a bad person," I say, more to myself than the rest of them. "I'm just the normal Elsie. I'm not involved with anything the Norwegians did, whatever they did do. I've barely even lived in Norway at all. I mean, I only lived there till I was five. Then I lived-" I stop myself from talking immediately and clasp a hand over my mouth. The silence remains hanging in the room.

"Lived where?"

"Doesn't matter," I sigh at the end, and turn my back on them. "Anyway, it's lights out in a few moments. Better get ready for bed."

Slowly, but surely, the room returns to normal. People flash me wary looks, taking caution when moving around my bed, but they mostly ignore me. I change quickly into my night dress and fold my everyday clothes neatly, placing them at the foot of my bed, ready for tomorrow. I take the pins out of my left side of my head, the one which pins the hair back – a Nordic cross. Nobody ever took much notice to the symbolism of the pin. It's a sign that I am a Nordic – I suppose people assume I'm from Sweden or Finland. I'd never be from Denmark; the Danish are free spirits, roaming freely outside the concentration camps.

My two best friends are Swedish and Finnish, but I don't know where they are. I don't know what happened to them – we were split up, once again, when we were re-roomed. I'm with a group of strangers. I didn't know them at all when we met, but we got along well. Okay.

The lights are switched off and we're left in the dark. I curl up in my duvet, hiding my face. The night is always tedious. We can't do anything if we can't sleep, because the slightest bit of noise and they're on us, in the room and demanding to know the culprit.

'They' are the guards. The ones from other nations, the free nations. There are mostly Russian guards, because they are powerful. There are some Americans, some British ones. The chefs are French, that I know – and there are some Italian chefs, treated less nicely than the French because Italy is a nation conquered by Russia and America.

We really all are just pathetic prisoners, aren't we?

Then again, we don't have the enforcements to escape. No tools or anything, and they keep the camps guarded like hell. If someone escapes, it's deemed a failure on the behalf of the Russian Protection Service – 'protection' really just meaning how well they keep us locked in here – and the whole camp goes on lockdown until that person is found, dead or alive. Only one person has escaped and never been found, and that was one of the Canadians who raised me and my family.

I miss them. I haven't seen them in years, and the only time we are in the same room is when we have the gatherings with all the different batches of prisoners. It is the only time we see boys other than meals, and the only time we see other people not in our specific groups. And during harvest, when we all go out and harvest crops, we are in the same field, but the field stretches out for miles and we all have designated areas. Leave your area, and you're shot on the spot. They keep the strict rules pretty well enforced here; they kill as many as possible upon seeing them commit a crime punishable by death, as to create more space. Where will all the new prisoners go? The dorms are already pretty tight, beds not too far away from each other, only enough room to walk and that's it. There's always a clearing in the middle of the room where we can sit in a circle, but that's it – even that may need to be filled with beds when more prisoners arrive.

They're working on a new camp, but I haven't heard much about it. All I know is that it's stricter, larger and there are iron bars surrounding the cells when someone has been punished and kept in there. There are even iron bars around the hospital beds, with a protective transparent wall around them to prevent germs from flying freely around the air. Medical support only goes so far in the camps – who cares if a few prisoners die from disease and illness? As long as the guards and nurses, valuable staff, don't get infected, they'll turn a blind eye to the disasters. However, one time a group of cells down below the building, in the underground, exploded suddenly, a bomb having been set by one of the prisoners. It was a mass suicide, all the people agreeing on it. They'd killed themselves with one bomb. There were no survivors.

I guess stuff like this is supposed to make you sad, but I don't. I am jealous of them – now the guards protect us from suicide by making sure we can't do it. No access to weapons or bombs or anything that could harm us. If we try to strangle ourselves or hang ourselves, guards are at the ready to stop us. It's funny how they'll kill us for any crime we commit, yet they don't want us to have the satisfaction of killing ourselves.

Not that I'm brave enough to do such a thing.

The morning comes quicker than I expected, birds narrowly avoiding getting caught in the tall wire mesh of the fence. One day closer to turning sixteen, and I am still completely stuck. I don't want to be a dancer, or a prostitute, or a servant. The job options for the boys sound far more to my liking, adventurous and exciting, but we girls are just domestic slaves. I don't know how I can cope. I don't want to be a lady, I don't want to be a servant.

Then it hits me.

If I don't want to be a lady, I can always be a man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Finland

"Wake up, girls! It's time for breakfast!"

Breakfast really isn't the most amazing time of the day. The food they serve is either sloppy, lumpy, tasteless porridge or stale bread. I honestly have a hard time choosing every day, and that's not because the food is so delicious I can't choose. It's because I don't know which one is worse. I usually opt for the bread, because the sight of the porridge reminds me of vomit. Disgusting.

Then I sit at a table, alone. I could join my friends, but since yesterday a lot of them have been avoiding me. They don't meet my eyes, they ignore me when I greet them. I gave up, so here I am now, sitting alone with a plate of stale bread. It's depressing, really. For a moment or two, before someone joins me.

"Hello, do you mind if I sit here? You look lonely?" I look up and see a short boy, with blonde hair and brown eyes, a smile on his face which actually looks genuine. He looks so sweet and kind that for a few moments I just stare in shock, before I smile back, feeling the muscles in my face relax from its previous frown and allow him to sit. "My name is Tino, and I'm from Finland. What's your name?"

"Elsie," I reply simply, biting into the stale bread, trying to buy some time before telling him my nationality. I swallow the bread and cringe at the awful taste, and realize he's expecting my nationality answered now. "I'm from Norway."

His initial shock dies after a moment, and his face returns to a warm yet slightly wary smile. "That's…wow. I was shocked for a moment – I mean, Norwegians nowadays are incredibly rare, am I right?"

"Yes," I say. "They were mostly killed off in the war."

"Oh, I'm sorry if anything I say offends you!" His chocolate brown eyes have gone wide, worried and anxious, alarm clear. "I don't wish to cause any offence, I'm just very interested on the subject of the war. Myself and Berwald, he's from Sweden, have been doing a ton of research on it. It's not really allowed, but people often overlook us." He smiles.

"Really?" I'm fascinated by this boy. He's researching the war with his Swedish friend? I'm pretty sure everything to do with the war has been banned from the camps, but somehow these two are researching it. Not long after he mentions his friend, a tall and intimidating man joins us at a table. He looks at me, half cautious and half quizzical, as if asking who I am with his eyes.

"Morning, Berwald!" Tino smiles. "This is Elsie. She's Norwegian."

The man's first sombre expression turns to one of interest, and he leans in closer to face me. "Norwegian?" he repeats, and I nod, worried. This guy is pretty scary, and even Tino looks slightly scared. I'm sure the man means no harm, but he just has that aura around him – one that terrifies me. I try to look elsewhere but he looks right into my eyes, as if piercing my soul.

"Y-Yes, that's right," I say, in case the nod wasn't enough. He leans back and looks satisfied with my answer. I glance at Tino and he just nods at me, and I turn back to the Swedish man. "How old are you, anyway? I'm sure you're older than sixteen, but…wouldn't that mean-"

"I'm fifteen. So is Tino." The man's voice is a monotone, his face void of all expression or emotion.

"O-Oh. I apologize. You looked…older."

"He gets that a lot." Tino returns to the conversation with a bright smile and I see that Berwald has his stare fixed on the boy. His stare is intimidating, but it looks friendlier with Tino, so I let him be.

The awkward silence continues for a while, and I finish the last of my bread. "Well, I guess we're saying our goodbyes now!" I say cheerfully. "I need to go back to the girls' dorms, so…"

"Ah, yes, goodbye, Elsie!" Tino calls happily. "I'm sure we'll see each other again at dinner!"

Breakfast and dinner are spent together, in age groups but mixed genders, but lunch is strictly reserved for your age group and gender only. I don't know what their deal with separating the genders that much is, but at least we see each other at two meals every day and in gatherings. I'm the oldest of my family left in the camp, and I know I have younger siblings somewhere. Pure Norwegians, like me, probably left out like me too, unless they've lied about their nationality.

I run my fingers through my light blonde hair, pondering this. I could have lied about my nationality. Instead, I was honest, openly telling the whole room and the cameras my heritage in Norway. How stupid could I have been? I let my dull blue eyes trail down to the ground as I walk, and I hear the pattering of rain above me. I return to the dorms and, as expected, I am ignored – I wasn't expecting anything more. I sit down on the edge of my bed and look down at my feet.

My idea about dressing as a boy is ridiculous. I know that. But sometimes I look in the mirror and think – I could pass as a boy. Flat chest, next to no curves, a face that could, with the right hairstyle, make me look like a boy with a slightly feminine face. I'm only a little bit shorter than Tino, and taller than some of the boys that I have seen. The more I think about it, the more it seems I could pull it off. I can pull it off – I just don't really know how.

Anyway, it's ridiculous. How am I going to even put the plan into action? I only have female clothes, and I'm always surrounded by people. I don't know how I could ever do such a thing as dress up as a male. But then again, there's the issue with my future. I don't want any of the three professions available. I want to be a soldier or a sailor or a merchant. A job where I can travel around the world and see a lot of sights and landmarks, and go on adventures – not be stuck in someone's home or at a crappy bar or someplace.

I sigh and fold my arms around my stomach. I wish I'd been born male, so I wouldn't be stressing over this right now. Less than a month to decide my profession – most of the timid and shy girls were settling on servant, the more confident ones as dancers or prostitutes. Nobody's being very open about what they're choosing, but I'm not either. It plagues my mind, like some kind of wasp buzzing around a cage in my mind, stinging everywhere. If I bite my nails any more, I could bite right down to my finger.

Soon we're doing our daily chores, going through lessons on etiquette and how to be a lady, and we're given more and more lectures on what career option we choose. There are thousands of children in this camp, and that means probably about five hundred to one thousand people turning sixteen. I don't really know the exact numbers. They're doing a good job of keeping thousands of children in line, making sure we're disciplined; they're amazing at striking fear into our hearts while maintaining some respectful attitude for the media.

Media. I haven't really ran into that word too often, but sometimes these strange outsiders come in with microphones and ask people questions. Mostly the staff, but sometimes they talk to the kids. They make sure to edit it out when a kid starts bad-mouthing the camps, though – doesn't do their reputation very good, and that kid gets punished later. Maybe some time in a cell on their own, isolation, maybe being made to do chores and such.

I sit at the back of the class, and look around. Every girl is doing what they should be doing obediently, sewing some stockings like we were told to. I don't know how they keep us all in line. It's probably because the Russian guards are some of the most terrifying people I have ever ran into. Just their stare is enough to make you shiver, their words making you jump and fear for your life. The fact that they casually carry around guns doesn't help.

I continue sewing, my expression one of focus. If I work hard, keep my head down and don't talk, I can fade right into the background and nobody will ever notice me. That's good – if I ever want my plan to work, I need it so nobody notices my disappearance. So I work for the next week, doing my work as told and being sure to fade completely into the background so it's almost like I've disappeared already. Then I know. I know what I must do now.

It's time to put my plan into action.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sweden

The scissors feel cold in my hands, as if warning me not to go through with this idea. I'm standing in front of the bathroom mirror, everyone sound asleep, not one person awake. I'm sure of it – I checked everyone's breathing, and it's all regular, people snoring and talking in their sleep. I'm glad it's one of the rare nights where everyone is asleep; it's nice and peaceful. Only one bed is empty, and it is mine. I hope nobody notices. They'll probably think it's always been empty – sometimes people leave. They're transferred to other dorms, for some reason or another. I could have just been one of the transfers, and they'll never see me again.

The first strand of hair falls to the ground, landing like a feather, making no sound and floating down elegantly before landing on the tiles of the bathroom floor. My first mistake. But it doesn't feel like a mistake, I feel freer and more in control than I have ever felt before. I can do whatever I please now – it's my hair, my life, my emotions. Nobody else can toy with such things, because they're mine. More locks of hair fall, and I cut. The sound of snipping is the only thing I can hear, in the dead of the night, silence ringing out – of course, it doesn't ring out, because it's silence. Silence makes no sound. Or does it?

I shake my head. Now's not the time for philosophical thoughts, nor ever. I don't have time to ponder on these things. I snip even more, half my head of hair cut to a standard boy's haircut, with a fringe. As I start on the other half, my trembling fingers reach and unclasp the Nordic Cross which is pinning my long strands of light blonde hair behind my ear. I place it carefully on the sink, and smile down at it. Even though I am recognisable wearing the cross, I can't not wear it. I remember it belonged to my mother once – each one of us has a Nordic Cross somewhere. Whether it be a bracelet with it attached, or a necklace or anklet or a hair accessory like mine, we all have some representation of a Nordic Cross somewhere.

The pile of hair builds up until I look in the mirror and see my new style. It's a good cut; strange, as I have never cut my own hair before. I have trimmed it, but never cut so much off at once. It compliments my face perfectly, and once I'm changed into some male clothes I should look fine. I don't know how I'm going to find male clothes, but for now I need to have my hair looking as feminine as possible. I mess around with it until I look like a proper girl, and pin one side back behind my ear as usual. It just seems like an innocent haircut – a lot of girls have their hair cut short. It's allowed as it makes some chores easier and some girls just have such long hair they get sick of it and just chop it all off. They used to have a rule on how short you could go but that rule was abolished and we now have free reign over what our hair looks like, as long as it doesn't inconvenience us. I clean up the hair, head back to my bed and climb in. I'll talk to Tino and Berwald tomorrow, and see if I can get them in on the plan – I hate dragging others into this, but Tino is my only hope, and if I need Tino on my side Berwald will follow. So I need both of them to make this work.

The morning is quieter than usual, and I sit up. Naturally, people's eyes shift to my new hairstyle. I forgot to take the pin out last night as I usually do, so I take it out and slot it back in, a little neater. And, for the first time in a few days, someone directly speaks to me.

"Why did you cut your hair? It was so beautiful."

"It got in the way, and I like this one far better." I look at them and smile, but they're not impressed. The girl, who as I guessed had very long hair, tumbling down nearly to her waist, folded her arms.

"I don't," she says.

"I don't care about what you think," I say sweetly, my voice laced with venom over the initial kindness. "It's my hair. My decision."

"You look kinda like a boy," one of them sniggers, and I glare at them.

"Nice observation." I turn away from them and take my bag out from under my bed. We all have our own suitcase-like bags to keep everything in. I take out my towel and shower cap and head to the showers. We don't have to have a shower schedule, but we made one at the start of the new dorm arrangements, and it's nailed on the back of the door. Eight o'clock sharp is my time to get in the shower, as well as three others. We have to keep our showers quick because there are lots of people in here, and showers pace out from six o'clock to nine o'clock.

In the showers, I head behind a curtain and hang the towel up, gathering my short head of hair up into the cap and folding my clothes up, placing them somewhere they won't get wet. My bag is outside, the change of clothes in it for afterwards. I have a robe at the ready as well for when I'm done drying. It's a daily routine, and it was complicated at first, but now I know it by heart. I can shower and dress in five minutes, easily. Unless I'm washing my hair, but we only do that on Sundays and sometimes Fridays. It depends on our Friday schedule, which changes often.

The water runs down my body and I tilt my head back, the water splashing onto it. I squeeze my eyes shut and before I know it, the shower is over. I wrap the towel around my body and dry off, then change into my everyday clothes as quickly as I can. I get all my stuff together and leave the shower rooms so someone else can go in and use the shower, and I return to the dorm. Like some kind of robot, I'm following the daily routine; day in, day out, the exact same until we're 'freed' from this place. Although we'll never truly be freed. Girls won't. Boys will be free, free to sail the seas and see tons of sights or be merchants selling all over the world or soldiers fighting in foreign lands. Jobs for the brave-hearted, and ours are jobs for the domestic women. Domestic. I'm not like that.

We head down to breakfast and I spot Tino and Berwald sitting at the same table we sat at yesterday. Lots of girls go and talk to the boys when they can, so it doesn't draw attention when I take a seat on their table after greeting them and Tino inviting me to sit.

"I like your new hair, Elsie. It's really cool," Tino smiles, and I look at him in surprise.

"Really? The feedback I've received so far hasn't exactly been friendly," I say, laughing lightly, trying to make a joke out of it. Berwald looks at me, and there's some kind of weird aura radiating off him that makes me squeal slightly and jump back. "B-But it's okay! Thank you for the compliment." I bow my head to Tino and Berwald relaxes in his seat a little.

"So you two are researching the war?" I ask them, curiosity winning me over and coming out in my words. Tino and Berwald exchange glances and Tino nods, Berwald sighing before turning to me.

"Yes," he says. "We have been for years now."

Tino smiles. "It's really interesting, and we're thinking of joining the military to learn a bit more about how the war works and what weapons they use and the type of training. But Berwald is kind of against me going…"

Berwald turns and stares at Tino. "The military is dangerous. You could get hurt."

I smile at them both. Tino is very brave, despite his looks – is he really that determined to join the military? "I would like to join the military as well. But I'm a girl, so that career option is unavailable. Unless…unless you two would like to help me with something?" It's now or never. If they say no, you're doomed.

"O-Oh? Help with what?" Tino asks curiously.

"I didn't just cut my hair for a change," I say, twirling a lock of hair around my index finger. "I cut it so I could look more like a boy. If I could get you two on my side, I could have boy's clothing. Then…" I switch my voice to a low whisper so nobody can hear, even though I'm sure nobody heard the last part. "I could dress like a boy and join the military."

The two of them gasp, and look at one another. "Are you sure…?" Tino asks, and Berwald raises an eyebrow. They look at me strangely, as if I'm some kind of weird creature.

"I am sure," I nod. "I'm determined. I want to know what it's like to be out there and fighting, and to be worth something instead of serving some old man in a large mansion. I can't cook, I can't clean and I can't sew, and I am not even going to think about the other career options. But I can fight – I was taught by someone before I was taken here." I remember him, one of the Canadians back when we were being kept in their territory. He was my father figure, and I used to train with him and he taught me a ton of fighting styles and tricks. I learned self-defence thanks to him, but it was all in vain. What use is fighting to a little girl?

"I see," Berwald says, and looks up at me. "You seem pretty fixated on this idea, Elsie, but how well have you planned it?"

"Well, I cut my hair, for starters. I'm thinking that if one of you can do anything about getting your hands on some male clothes, I can dress like a male. I'm sure I could pass as one. Then, if there's a spare bed in your dorms, I can try sleeping there. If I play my cards right, I can just about manage in there. And then I can escape to the military with you both. I want to be worth something, as I've already stated. And I'm sure this is the way to go."

There's something in Tino's eyes that I can't quite decipher, some kind of emotion or something. I stare at him quizzically, but the look disappears after a few moments. "You sound like you've planned it well." He smiles. "Well, Berwald? Shall we help Elsie?"

"Hmm…"

"Hey, don't call me Elsie. That name is too girly for a boy." I smile at them both and Tino laughs.

"What's your name then?"

I think about this for a moment. I remember back to the awful day when my eldest brother was shot. His name…his name was Lukas. I look up at them with a confident look on my face. "My new name is Lukas. Lukas Bondevik." I don't know where the last name came from, but it sounds familiar. I shake my head – I must just be imagining things.

"Okay, Lukas," Tino smiles, and Berwald nods with a slight grunt. I look at them both, surprised they aren't judging me. I finish the last of my food and stand up from the table.

"I don't know how the plan is going to work and when it's going to be put into play, but I'm glad I have your support. I'll see you soon," I say, and then rush off without waiting for a response. I've always filtered my words, making sure to pay attention to what I am saying, so I don't usually speak from the heart. But that came from the heart; I just hope they are on board with my plan. If not, I better get ready for a lifetime of being a domestic servant.

Because what woman _doesn't _want to be imprisoned within some rich bastard's home and forced to work from six o'clock at dawn to ten o'clock at night until they're worn out and exhausted?

I guess it's just me who hasn't become accustomed to such things. Of course it has to be me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Scotland

Another peaceful day of chores and lessons – lessons in sewing, cooking, and many other domestic skills. I don't tend to exceed in many of these, except perhaps cooking; I know I can't sew to save my life and I'm not a very adept cleaner either, but I can deal with it. I'd like the day to remain peaceful, just the usual routine with no differences to how a usual day goes.

Of course, luck isn't on my side today.

I turn the corner to a completely empty corridor, bar the Scottish girl from the dorms when I first announced my nationality. She's tapping her foot on the ground like she's expecting someone, and I try to walk past unnoticed. But then two more people step in front of me, blocking my pathway. Her friends, a Welsh girl and another Scottish girl. I know this from spending time in the dorm rooms with them, and their accents give it all away.

Only now they don't look too friendly, as if they want another conversation with me like we used to converse in the dorm rooms before they discovered that I am Norwegian. They look like they're ready for trouble, and I'm caught in the middle of it all. I take a step back, and find some more girls behind me. My eyes widen, terrified. I've never been in such a situation anymore, except for-

_The rain pattered against the windows, water sliding down the glass and gathering on the window ledge. It was another calm night in the house, with the fire lit and children huddled in blankets. They ate their meal in silence, until they heard footsteps outside, then a loud knocking – the kids turned around in shock. Nobody ever visited their house…was it possibly one of the nearby Canadians, asking for some shelter, perhaps? Or a traveller?_

_ One of the carers, the Canadians, made their way over to the door and opened it slightly; however, there was no need to open it fully as the door was forcefully shoved open and in ran a bunch of soldiers from the Russian military. Screams spread across and plates of food were dropped, some into the fire, burning away like the last of their hope. They had been discovered. They were going to die-_

_ A gunshot, and a scream. The eldest child's lifeless body crumpled to the ground. There were gunshots and yells and the adults were telling the children to hide, and there was another gunshot and a little girl screamed, clutching her leg in agony as her twin sister tried to get her to hide with her. The soldiers were merciless, and almost all the adults were killed trying to protect the children._

_ Luckily, the children escaped within an inch of their lives, out the door and trying to run as far and as fast as they could._

_ But then they heard the heavy footsteps behind them, far faster than theirs, and knew that all hope was lost…_

I'm surrounded like I was then. Only instead of soldiers, there are girls my age, some even shorter than me, dressed in the same drab uniform as me. The soldiers were tall and fully equipped, whereas these girls only have their fists, nails and words to hurt me. I don't know why I'm so scared, or why my heart is pounding so hard under my chest.

"Aye, Norwegian girl," the Scottish girl says – I think her name is Ainsley – and she walks towards me, stepping closer. I want to step back, but there's someone behind me. I want to cry out, but that's a weak thing to do. I want to run but there's nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. I don't know what I'm going to do when I'm cornered and surrounded like this.

Her friends are laughing and I don't know why. Why would someone laugh over someone else's misfortune? It's a cruel and disgraceful thing to do. I hold back the scowl that threatens to make its way over my face. She's very close now, my eyes level with her neck, but I look up and meet her eyes defiantly. She reaches her hand up and in one quick motion, slaps me across the right cheek. I stumble to the left, not expecting the hit, and clutch my now red cheek. They laugh again. Cowards.

"God, I would've thought you could at least handle a slap. That's a shame, there's a lot more comin' to ya." Her knee makes contact between my legs and I flinch backwards at the sudden contact. I'm against the wall now, vulnerable to their attacks.

"Oh, so you are a girl? It's difficult to tell with the weird new haircut." She cackles like some kind of witch from a fairy-tale and I flinch again. She spots that and giggles, now sounding like some little girl. "That face is so funny. What happened to the look of defiance from before? Gone?" She kicks me again and I grit my teeth in pain.

I don't know why this is happening to me. Why me? The others join in, surrounding me and kicking and slapping and punching. I just want to escape all this and fly away somewhere-

Then there's a shot of something. Not a gunshot, but something within me. It's a feeling coursing through my veins – I remember the word for it. Adrenaline. It shoots up and goes right to my head, feeding power to my whole body. I grab an incoming wrist and throw the person backwards, then I shake someone's hand off my leg and kick them in the chest, sending them back onto the floor, gasping for air from the assault on their lungs. I punch Ainsley in the face and she sprawls back onto the ground, joining her two other friends. I begin to make my way over to the last few, who exchange looks then run off, abandoning their friends.

I stare down at the girls and Ainsley looks up, her green eyes wide with alarm and horror. "Y-You…" She looks halfway between angry and amazed. If she wasn't in so much pain, she would have probably appreciated me. Admired me for once. I don't want to be admired by her kind, though. I turn and walk off, leaving them in pain on the ground.

The adrenaline calms, and I return to the dorm room. What just happened doesn't process through my mind until I'm actually in bed and trying to get to sleep. Then my eyes snap open from my half-conscious state and a shot of energy rushes through my heart, making me jump and sending my thoughts into a whirlwind of emotions and regrets.

I've made them my enemy. I have brought this upon myself – I could have let them beat me up, let them attack me, but instead I had to show my true fighting spirit. The self-defence I learned as a child. All those lessons I took where I learned how to fend people off – I never had the strength or courage to do anything of the sort to a real human, not even when it was merely sparring. Unless I had the new-found adrenaline rush.

The bed creaks as I roll onto my side and I hear the girl in the bed next to me groan and stir slightly. I close my eyes again, even when the thoughts carry on plaguing my mind. I'm going to be hated in the morning. I'm going to be targeted again, or avoided – what if Tino and Berwald are afraid of me after this? What if I'm blackmailed or hurt?

_Forget it. Just go to sleep._

Sleeping will be hard, but I know that in the morning I'll have to suffer even more hardships. Within moments, I am asleep, and I'm oblivious to someone stirring and getting up from the same bed that belongs to the Scottish girl Ainsley.

My mistake, and my downfall.

**This chapter is pretty short, but whatever!**

**Thank you if you've reviewed, followed or favourited, it means a lot and I update quicker when I see that someone has taken the time to do one of those things 3 Reviews are highly appreciated because I need constructive criticism for this story! I often accidentally place a ton of errors in my stories and there are a ton of loopholes and idk, I don't read over stuff often so yeah, reviews would be highly helpful, and thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Italy

I wake up and she's gone. People are muttering in quiet voices as they go about their daily business, with the worry of Ainsley's disappearance fresh in their minds. I don't care if she disappears and never returns, but the fact that we don't know where she is – it terrifies me. She must be somewhere in the camp; escaping is next to impossible. The guards would be looking for her, and she should be returned today if she is discovered. Ainsley is sly, however; she could hide. But the guards are always one step ahead.

I head down to breakfast and Tino and Berwald sit at their usual table. They don't look at me today – _why not? _– therefore I feel uninvited. I don't know whether I should join them anyway. In the end, I decide to sit alone at a table in the corner furthest from them. I eat in silence, and eat far quicker than I normally do. There's a table where Ainsley usually sits, and one of the chairs is painfully empty. It leaves a gap in the hall and we can sense it. There's something wrong.

A lock of short hair curls around my index finger; I've been fiddling with it a lot more since I cut it. I've never experienced the feeling of having short hair before, and it's really bizarre, spending your whole life with long, somewhat glossy hair and now having a short head of hair, like a boy's. Then again, that's the intention – boys with long hair don't go unnoticed, and with girly hair and a feminine face, I'd definitely be questioned in the army.

After breakfast, I return to my daily chores. It's tedious. It always has been, once you've settled down and grown used to what happens every day. Days fade into other days and they all blend to months – I rarely know what the date is, unless I ask one of the guards, and they're too scary to approach. We always know the time because we keep our own wrist-watches, so we can stay on schedule.

This day goes along, but we all fear what has happened to Ainsley. I honestly wouldn't care if she was killed somehow in the camps – she's an awful human being, and I'd feel far more at ease without her, as horrible as it sounds. But if she's plotting something, I feel like I can never be at ease. I don't notice I'm shivering until the person next to me questions me, and I pass it off as being cold – it is entering the cold winter weather nowadays, so it's a valid excuse.

When we return to the dorms, they're talking about her. They sit on the empty bed and discuss the possibilities. One of the girls who witnessed my adrenaline rush points at me as I enter. "I betcha, it's got somethin' to do with the Norwegian girl. She fought us yesterday, and I bet she got Ainsley!"

They turn on me, and I can hear a lot of words. Mostly rude ones. They want to know, they thirst for information. They thirst to know what's going on, even when it's none of their business. Like flies around-

"Elsie! Answer us!"

I jump and step back slightly. "I haven't done anything. She provoked me to hit her, and I already got my payback by punching her. I don't need anything else from her. She must have disappeared herself – it's not uncommon, you know. A lot of people want to escape."

"B-But…escaping is near impossible…not a lot of people dare to attempt it nowadays," a Lithuanian girl says timidly, raising her hand slightly to make her presence known.

"Some people think they're strong enough. That's how Ainsley comes off to me, thinking she can do anything," I say. "I mean, she has always been over confident. The guards could have already caught her and taken her into questioning or something. She'll probably be executed." I turn on them and head over to my bed, sitting down and kicking my shoes off.

"Don't talk about execution so matter-of-factly!" one of the Welsh girls from yesterday shouts, rage colouring her face red. "In case you did not know, Ainsley is our friend. I don't care how much of a bitch she was being to you, that gives you no right to speak of her that way! Execution is no _joking _matter! What kind of sorry excuse for a human being do you think you are, acting that way in front of Ainsley's friends?!"

I look up at the girl, who is breathless from her rant. "Don't talk too fast without breaks, you'll get out of breath," I say, my voice a monotone. I disclose my emotions from them. "I'm not trying to joke about execution. I'm just stating the facts – when you're caught trying to escape, you'll be executed. The rules are strict here and we're expected to obey them. If you break them, you've brought it upon yourself." I throw one leg over the other and lean back against the wall. "I'm sorry if it came out in a way that made you feel I was joking."

Everyone is silent for a moment. Soon they turn their backs on me and continue talking. I lean back and stare up at the plain white ceiling. The mood is too dark. The aura in this room is depressing. There's no one here to cheer us up, and everyone's upset-

"Ciao, ciao!"

Everyone jumps as a loud girl jumps into the room, her eyes closed and her face the definition of carefree. She kicks her shoes off upon entering and flops down onto her bed. I can already tell from the way she greeted us all – she's Italian, through and through. Within a few minutes everyone is laughing, some cringing and face palming at the annoying Italian girl, but the mood has lifted a lot. She's somehow burst in and changed everything. I've never even noticed her before – I think she's been re-roomed. She probably disrupted her previous dorm, and she'd be moving between quite a lot of dorms.

She introduces herself as Felicity and gets to know everyone. Even the quiet and shy ones, she greets them and talks to them and makes them smile or laugh just by cracking embarrassing jokes and doing some strange impersonations. She also talks a lot about pasta, and asks if we like pasta and other Italian foods. A lot of people admit that they do indeed like pasta, and she seems pretty happy with us all. She talks to me for about thirty seconds before she's dragged back into the crowd, and I sit back and smile, relaxed now that the mood has lightened.

However, in the back of my mind there's still the everlasting fear of where Ainsley is, what she's doing and what on Earth she's planning. Genuine worry crosses my mind – I don't know when I started worrying about this rebellious, manipulative girl, but I do. She could be plotting anything.

I just hope I don't end up getting caught in the middle of whatever it is she's planning.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Romania

It's been a while since the one day Tino and Berwald decided to ignore me, and ever since then they've been just as friendly as usual, bar the odd stares from Berwald. I sit with them every day, and despite the constant teasings from the other girls about hanging out with the boys because I love them, I feel at ease. I mean, if I'm going to dress up as a boy, I doubt I could ever fall in love with one. Most boys in the army, if interested in love at all, are probably interested in girls, and I can't let my identity slip at any point. So it's a loveless life for me. That's how I planned it in the first place. Loveless is good, safer, more secure; I don't have to worry about anyone but myself. Berwald is looking out for both himself and Tino, and he may be the strongest boy I've met at this camp, out of the few I have actually spoken to. Tino always talks about how high Berwald scores in the fitness tests they do, and I always listen, intrigued, because the activities the boys do differ so greatly from the girls that I can't help but be curious about it.

Then there's Felicity, who's always bubbly. She sleeps a lot, as expected from an Italian, and calls it her 'siesta'. When people ask her what she plans to do after 'graduation', she laughs and tells them she only worries about the present and that the past and future are so far away, she can barely touch it, so she leaves it. It's an odd way of thinking when it's so close on the horizon. Girls are already whispering to each other their choices. I wonder how many of them would rather sell their bodies than do domestic chores for some upper-class folk. I'd probably be surprised at the numbers, to be honest. But Felicity doesn't seem like the kind of girl who would become anyone's servant, as she'd just sleep all the time, or take the other route because she's far too innocent. So what does go in that girl's mind? Maybe she's just putting on some show for the rest of us. She is oddly happy all the time.

I'm worrying far too much about a girl who's only spoken to me for half a minute. She sleeps in the bed Ainsley left behind. She doesn't even know who Ainsley is and nobody has the heart to tell her, so we remain quiet and mourn sadly. For some of us, sadly – and it's not really mourning, because we've received no news of her being found or being dead. The guards will have a lot to answer to, letting just a small Scottish girl get away from the camp. I envy her. If I could have just escaped, with a flawless plan, I could just run away to where the upper-class men and women live and try and blend in. I'm just as sly as Ainsley – I could pickpocket and manage to scrape by.

But I wasted my chances because I was too scared. I still am too scared; I hate being a coward. I hope I can make it into the army without my legs shaking too much. I'd hate to be the person who falls flat on the ground on the first day of training drills (Berwald says there's always one boy who does that). I don't want to be that person.

I refuse to be weak because I'm a girl. I refuse to do domestic chores just because I have longer hair and a more feminine face and I'm deemed 'weaker'. I'll throw on that muddy, camouflaged, ugly military uniform and I'll don the cap and work it like a man would. I'll shoot the guns and hit the targets and run faster than the others with twice the weight on my shoulders. I'll crawl under nets and through mud, working the muscles in my legs to the extreme and leaving me faint and weakened, but I won't be the weak one; I'll be the strongest, and stand next to Berwald in the rankings beaming and proud because I refused to be weak and I didn't let the fact that I'm a girl cloud my vision towards the future. I will be the soldier that everyone desires to be. Every boy dreams of being a soldier or a sailor, or a merchant or a tailor. But I'll be the first girl to achieve that dream.

The thought sends a shiver down my spine as I walk down the corridor, my shoulders slightly tensed as I rub my hands together and try and remain calm as the same adrenaline rush that rocked over my body when I fought Ainsley slowly creeps under my skin and into my bloodstream. Then there's a male voice from next to me, which shocks me, because boys aren't allowed here. But-

"I can help you."

It makes me jump. Not just the fact that a boy is in the girl's section of the camp, but because it's like he read my mind. He's offering help. But what for? I turn to him and stare blankly, trying my hardest to make it seem like I have no idea what he's on about. He walks out from the shadows, as if trying to make his presence more dramatic. It works, too, a shiver running down my spine once again as I take in the sight of this strange man.

He's wearing a hat. You're not allowed hats in the camp, but he sports one, red with a purple bead on the side which leads off to two separate ribbon-like strands, one red and one white, and a white line circles the hat. His coat matches the crimson-like colour of the hat, and he wears purple boots. His hair is quite similar to my new cut, and he has eyes that seemingly match the crimson red theme, or maybe the purple of the bead – I can't tell. All I can tell is that he's very colour-coordinated; but another thing I notice that leads me to stare is…this boy has _fangs. _The sharpest teeth I've ever seen on another human being, one tooth standing out amongst the rest as a sharp and fang-like tooth. I stare in awe and shock for a moment before he reaches out a pale hand and snaps his long fingers, finished off at the end with nails as sharp as his teeth, and I see his other hand is gloved and holds the glove from his currently outstretched hand.

"You look lost." His hand is still reached out as if he wants me to take it, and when I don't he smiles and chuckles slightly. His voice is higher than I expected, and a lot more dull. Quite like mine.

"You're the boy who's in the girl's section," I say in return, keeping my hands planted by my sides and not moving towards him or away from him. He steps closer to me, though.

"Maybe I'm the lost one."

"Get out of here."

"You're a bit cold, aren't you? Most the other girls seem to be quite chirpy. There's one missing though, isn't there? What's her name? Ainsley?"

"Get the fuck out!" I shout, and slap across his perfectly smooth and pale face, leaving a small cut where my nail scratched his skin. Hah. His creamy white skin is now stained with the crimson of his blood, but the awful thing is, it just blends into his colour coded appearance. He doesn't flinch at the slap, and I glare at him. He infuriates me for no reason. "Why?"

"Pain doesn't really matter to me. I don't mind it as much as others do. You have very sharp nails. Maybe as sharp as mine. Maybe not. I'm not sure." He reaches out his hand and I slap it away, cringing in pain as the tip of one of his nails scratches the palm of my right hand ever so slightly. They really are the sharpest. "Please stop slapping me."

"Who are you? Where are you from? Why are you here?"

"I'm from Romania."

"You missed two of my questions."

"Don't wanna answer them."

I sigh in irritation. "Don't you have friends here?"

"Maybe."

"Who?"

"I have a little brother. And a best friend."

"Well, go talk to them instead of wasting both your time and my time here. You're not even supposed to be here. There will be guards in a moment."

"I'll bite them."

"You wouldn't."

"Wanna make a bet?"

"Not really."

"Lame."

"Why are you still here?"

He reaches the ivory pale hand around the back of his neck and scratches it awkwardly, probably making a few small cuts in the process, but he doesn't even seem to flinch from the pain of his razor sharp nails. "I don't know. I was walking around the corridors and I ended up here. Looks like fate brought me here to meet you."

"Fate didn't do shit. You're just a lost idiot in the girls' section of the camp trying to play it cool."

"You look like you belong in the boys' camp. What's with the haircut?"

My hair's become unravelled, and it looks more messy and boyish. That's what I'm assuming from how he looks at me. I don't answer his question and instead reach my hand up and brush the hair gently with my fingertips so it looks neater and more like it was this morning. I unclasp the clip and put it back on just as quickly so he doesn't see what my fringe looks like without it. I haven't kept my hair down like that since I was back in Canada. I vowed never to again.

"Never mind. You look better now. And I could still tell you're a girl, you just look kinda boyish. I don't see you being a servant or a prostitute any time in the future." He grins and it looks kind of cheeky, but the fangs scare me still. "My best friend and I are still plannin' what we want to do. We don't know if we should join the military and fuck shit up in those camps, or maybe go sailin' and travel round the world together, or become merchants and earn a shit ton of money. But whatever we do, we doin' together. Do you have a friend you'd do anything with?"

I think of Tino and Berwald and how we're planning to go to the military together. I don't know if I'd go anywhere they went – if they jumped off a cliff, I doubt I'd follow. But just to keep things short and snappy I mutter a simple "Yes" and he seems satisfied. Then he claps his hands together and I'm almost used to his freaky pale skin.

"Well, Romanian guy whose name I don't know," I say before he has the chance to speak. "You better get out this part of camp before they arrest you. Not that I'd care if they did, of course."

"Sure thing, Nordic girl. So, which one is it? Finnish or Swedish?"

"Does it matter? Maybe I'm neither."

"Hell no. Norwegians are extinct and Danes live outside camp."

"Eh, whatever. Pretend I never said anything. Just say I'm a Nordic for now."

"Sure thing, Nordic girl. See ya around. Or not."

"I don't really care."

"Sure you don't!" Then he grins, showing off the fangs once more before he runs off back into the shadows. I never get a chance to ask what he meant by saying he'd help me. Well, that'll remain a mystery – there are a lot of mysteries in my life which need to be solved, but I doubt I have the time nor resources to solve them. It does my head in, all the curiosity.

And then there's the mystery of Ainsley the Scottish girl. And the mystery of the cheery Italian Felicity, and the Canadian who escaped execution and my true heritage and what lies outside the camp and what I'm going to do when I leave this place, what career path I'll take and whether my plan to dress as a male will go smoothly or not. What if I have a future of killing people to maintain my secret? A life full of loneliness, if Tino and Berwald are carelessly killed in the military? If I'm killed in the military and these mysteries are never solved? If I'll ever see this Romanian vampire dude again?

I want answers, but there's no way to get them.

So I take off and run all the way back to the dorm before changing and settling down into bed, and when my eyes close, they don't open again for the remainder of the night and the mysteries swirl into a deep whirlwind of curiosity and confusion and I'm sucked right into the middle.

There doesn't seem to be a way out of the whirlwind for quite a while, and I'm not sure whether I'm okay with that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

South Italy

For a while, it doesn't feel like it's a nightmare. It's too raw and real to be a nightmare, yet I'm reacting the same as I would a nightmare, tossing and turning and sweating and gripping onto the sheets with what little unconscious energy I can muster up. Yet I can't wake up. My body refuses to send signals to wake me up, everything feels like it's halfway between reality and a nightmare. It feels real. Far too real to not be.

There isn't any specific thing I'm seeing. I can hear things. Gunshots, screaming, Ainsley's voice, I can see the outline of a smile that belongs to the Romanian vampire and I can hear the strong Russian accents of the guards cutting into my mind like a razor blade. I can taste the French food from the canteen on the tip of my tongue and I can see the smiles, all the smiles, not just the Romanian's smiles anymore and then the laugh of the Italian girl ringing first through my right ear, then into the middle of my head as if it's nestled right in the core of my brain and then to my left ear before it fades into the background, and I hear the harsh _whoosh _of the axe and the sound of its force upon the neck of an innocent Canadian runaway.

Nobody's innocent anymore.

It goes silent for a moment, and I shake, shuddering and sweating in the bed too warm for my cold heart. Is it over? Will I be woken to laughter and chattering? Or the same horrors I just witnessed? I hope nobody's awake and staring upon my face as I shudder and a tear rolls down my pale cheek. I've already proven myself as strong thus far, I don't want to lose the little sense of strength I have cocooned within me just because someone saw me in a moment of weakness and vulnerability.

There's one last flash of a smile, and I'm not sure whose it is because it's far too proud, cocky and arrogant and, for some reason, slightly sinister. Then there's the laugh, and it sounds annoying, yet slightly safe. I don't know who it belongs to. I'm not sure if I want to know. They can't be real, whoever it is – none of this is real, this _nightmare_, or dream, because I don't want to be weak.

I lie there for a while – maybe a few hours, maybe a few minutes, I don't know. I lost track of time ages ago. I don't know whether anyone is awake around me or if the sun is rising and the harsh glare shining upon the camp in the dreary hours of sunrise, or whether the moon still stands proud in the night sky. I don't see the sky often, or go outside often. We're usually just confined within the camps and that's where we stay.

The memory of the nightmare lingers in my mind for a lot longer than I'm comfortable with. It doesn't seem to be going away any time soon.

"Ciao!" I hear a chirpy, familiar voice, and I know who it belongs to immediately. She's up and running around, grabbing the duvets and pulling them off everyone as she runs past. She reaches me and pulls it off, and I flinch and shudder again at the sudden cold. I hear groans from around the room as girls who have been rudely awoken sit up, death glares fixed on their faces all aimed towards Felicity, who turns and looks like she's on the verge of tears. "No, no, I didn't mean to wake you up violently! It's just that it's time soon and I thought we could all go down to the canteen together, si?" She holds her hand out as a girl walks towards her with her fists clenched. "No need for fighting! No need for viol- AAH!"

The fight isn't serious, just play fighting, and soon the whole room is in hysterics. A guard comes and tells us to quiet down and get dressed. We do so, and Felicity seems to have made a new best friend in the Welsh girl who she fought with. They walk down to the meal hall with arms around each other, at least.

Tino and Berwald aren't there by the time we reach there, so I just sit on the table and watch as Felicity is just as bubbly as usual – yet she seems to be even more cheerful today. Why is that?

"Lovi!" she cries out in happiness, and runs over to where the boys are just piling into the room. There's a boy there who looks quite like a male and angrier version of Felicity, and he scowls when she hugs him. I'm guessing they're twins and Felicity hasn't seen her brother in a while. It always happens with siblings in the camps. Then again, I don't have any siblings left.

None that I know of, anyway.

"Get off me, bastardo!" the other Italian twin says angrily, pushing his sister away from him. "And don't call me Lovi!"

"Hmm? Where are your friends, brother? Do you have any here?" Felicity stands on her tiptoes so she's the same height as her brother and pouts slightly.

"You don't need to know about my friends. Now get away from me," he says. The whole hall is watching them now. I spot Tino and Berwald, and they sit down opposite me as usual and continue watching the twins bicker.

"Lovi…you're so grumpy…" Felicity whines, and holds onto her brother's arm. They're the strangest pair of twins I've ever met – not that I've met many.

Eventually Felicity returns to her seat and her brother walks over right to the other side of the hall and sits alone. I wonder if he gets lonely sitting by himself. I used to be before I met Tino and Berwald.

"Lukas," Tino says, seeming to have gotten used to my male name easily. "When are you putting the plan into action?"

He's never been straight to the point like this before. I'm taken aback for a moment before I gather myself and relax in my chair. "I'm really not sure. Most likely closer to the date where we graduate. Then I can get away without being questioned too much by the others. They have search parties looking for Ainsley. I doubt I can hide for that long then reappear as a boy and expect no questions. They'll go to any lengths to find someone who has run away. If they suspect that a girl is in the military, they won't have any respectful way of checking if it's true. I don't want to be suspected." I forget I'm speaking and allow the thoughts in my mind to come through in my words. "I'm sure I can pass as a boy, though. As long as I don't draw any attention to myself…"

"I'm sure you can!" Tino says with a bright smile. "You're smart, and really sly as well. You're strong enough to be able to pass as a boy convincingly, and Berwald and I believe in you! That's enough, right? I'm sure you'll be able to do it. If you don't, then consider me wrong, but I doubt you'll be caught if we pull this plan off as well as we can."

I stare in shock for a few seconds. Berwald looks like he firmly believes in me as well, and Tino laughs nervously, waiting for me to respond. "T-Thank you," I say, and bow my head in respect towards them both. "I am very pleased that you both believe in me. I'll do my best!" I finish eating and stand up. "Call me Elsie a while longer, okay? But as soon as we leave it's back to Lukas." I make sure my voice is quiet so it doesn't draw attention and people don't listen in. I then hurry and put my tray away and head out the door.

I have an extra spring in my step as I walk down the corridor. I see that boys and girls are communicating with one another before they split into their different sections. It's the one time the genders truly mix. The guards look like they don't enjoy it but they can't really do anything about it, as this is the designated area where both genders can hang out before they get to their chores. A few people who know me personally look a little shocked at how happy I look – I'm usually dull and emotionless, and I'm not exactly smiling, but my face is a lot brighter than it usually is.

Until I run into someone who gasps and yells, "Bastardo!" before taking a few steps back. I stare at the person – it's the same guy from before, the twin brother of Felicity. I think she was calling him Lovi, but he didn't seem to like that.

"I apologise," I say. Usually when I bump into people I don't apologise, but this time I feel compelled to. He narrows his eyes.

"Watch where you're going, Nordic bastardo."

Does he find a word to describe every person and slap a 'bastardo' onto the end and call them that? "My name is Elsie," I say. "Not 'Nordic bastardo'. I'm sorry for disturbing your walk, _Lovi_."

He appears to be maddened by the name and shoves me backwards. A guard looks wary of us and looks prepared to grab one of us if things get out of hand. A lot of people have turned to look at us. "Don't call me that!" he rages, and clenches his fists. "It's _Lovino_. Lovino Vargas."

"Twin of Felicity Vargas? You're quite the opposites."

"Don't compare me to that lazy pasta-eating bastardo. Si, we are twins, but very unlike one another in reality. So don't go pairing us together in everything because we're not alike. Now get the fuck out of my sight, _Elsie_."

"Gladly," I snap in return, and shove past him into the corridor that leads to the girls' section, ignoring the weird looks I receive from others. I hope Tino and Berwald weren't there for that.

"Hey, you shouldn't make too many enemies here." I hear a familiar voice from behind me and turn around with an exasperated sigh.

"What do you want, vampire?"

"Wow. Never heard that one before."

"Seriously? Cause you look like one."

"I was being sarcastic."

"I knew that."

"Sure you did."

"For someone who has a best friend, you're not really around them much."

"What can I say? He's a slow eater and I'm impatient."

"And you're still hanging out where the girls are meant to be. Pervert."

"You're the only girl here."

"I'm the only other _person _here."

"I'm not even a pervert."

"Why else would you be here?"

"Most the boys don't like me, so I go here."

"I doubt the girls like you either."

"I don't care about the girls. You're the only one I've spoken to in my life."

"What about your mother?"

"No clue who she is."

"Hasn't at least one girl spoken to you?"

"Nope."

"Can't blame them."

He chuckles. I notice both his hands are gloved this time, black gloves covering the pale hand. The perfect contrast, and he still has the colour-coded outfit. It all goes. It's irritating. "You're not very nice, _Elsie_. And I still don't know where you're from. I told you I'm from Romania. Why won't you tell me? Or should I ask Tino or Berwald for the information?"

"You know Tino and Berwald?"

"Mm. Can't really call them my friends, but they're nice enough to me. Which is an achievement."

"Brilliant. I don't give a fuck."

"Watch your language or you'll end up getting along with Lovino." He grins. "You two seem to have made friends."

"Why do you keep talking to me?"

"You're interesting. I want to be friends."

"I'm not going to be friends with a perverted vampire."

"Yet here you are."

I glare at him, and cross my arms, shifting my weight onto my left leg. "Well? How do you expect this _friendship _to work?"

"We talk occasionally and greet each other with 'Hey, friend'."

"No way in hell am I doing that."

"That's a shame, cause I will."

"People like you are the reason I hate the world and want to die."

"Whoa, didn't realise we were at the stage in friendship where you unload all your mental and emotional problems onto me and I listen and give you a comforting hug."

"Don't touch me with your creepy vampire hands."

"I don't plan on. I don't molest children."

"…I'm fifteen."

"You look like a child."

"Fuck off."

"Will do," he says, and turns around. "See you around, friend!" Then he leaves and heads back to the boys' area where he's supposed to be. I see a glimpse of a brown-haired boy who greets him and they walk off together. So he really does have a 'best friend'.

I sigh. That boy irritates me so badly I want the ground to swallow me up, but I can't do that. It'll ruin the plan. I just hope he doesn't choose to join the military, or else I'll have a lot of explaining to do.

I already have a lot of explaining to do, but I'm putting off doing it.

I just don't want to accept the fact that I've made a huge mistake. But I have to sometime…don't I?


	8. Chapter 8

**Note: bleh i don't have a name for this chapter. Also sorry for the rare updates! It's just I've started school again irl and it's terrible and every time I get home i just sleep for a few hours then do homework and by then it's too late to go onto my laptop and start writing. also i'm just a lazy updater in general. But thanks for the reviews and if anyone is still interested in this story here's an update! This story is also on wattpad, if you have a wattpad I would appreciate votes on it but you don't have to seeing as I don't deserve votes for being so lazy xD Anyways, enjoy!**

At night, it's always so quiet. Once the buzz of the dorm room has died down, everything goes eerily silent, the silence pausing only for the creaks of bed springs as people turn over and the soft snoring of various people in the room. We don't have many loud sleepers in this specific dorm, but I've heard of other dorms where people can't sleep because of distractions from snoring and sleep-talking. Sometimes girls murmur things in their sleep here, and sometimes they wake up screaming and have to go to the bathroom and calm down before coming back. Nobody ever mentions it the day after. I guess it's their way of giving that person their space. I mean, I'd want the same thing. But I rarely wake up screaming, or talk in my sleep. I just lie there, frozen to the core, and I wake up with sweat running down my forehead and legs and arms, and my eyes wide and some sort of falling sensation in my stomach.

Tonight, nobody says a word. Nobody wakes up in hysterics. Nobody even snores lightly. It's one of the quietest nights I've had in this goddamn place, and I can't get to sleep at all. I don't want to repeat the nightmares. My eyelids grow heavy but I force them to stay open, and for a moment I'm so fixated on keeping my eyes _open _and not falling asleep that when the girl in the bed next to mine lets out a soft snore, I nearly have a heart attack. I roll over and land on the floor, my blanket cushioning my fall. I try to get up, but my legs are so tired, so I fall limp and defeated. My arm stretches across onto the cold wooden floorboards, and I narrow my eyes. I'm so sleepy, but I can't fall asleep here. In the morning I'll just be laughed at. I force myself back up onto my feet and clamber back onto my bed, and it creaks, making me cringe. I flop down on it and rest my head on the pillow. It's not a comfortable bed. They can't possibly afford to buy thousands of good quality beds for people that have no worth for them. These are horrible, rock hard beds, with the lowest quality of pillows and just a thin blanket to cover ourselves. We can get thicker ones in the winter or in cold weather, but even so people fall ill because they haven't been warm enough.

Our lives have no meaning to them, but if a large number of us died, they'd start trying to help. Nobody wants to sacrifice themselves, though. Since Ainsley disappeared, there have been a few escape attempts by idiots who think that she successfully escaped and that escape will be easier now; they were all caught. Needless to say, they'll never be leaving the large fences that surround the institution now. It's a scary thought, that if you step within five metres of that fence there will be guns aimed right at your head, and if you don't show any signs of retreating, the guards won't hesitate to pull the trigger and end your life.

Then again, what more could we expect from the authorities here? They're cruel, heartless beings. Just like this world, they show no mercy.

It takes a while before I realise I'm wide awake. The thought of what could happen to me at any moment has struck me again and now I know I won't be falling asleep tonight. So I curl up into a ball, hugging my blanket close to my chest. I wonder how these girls around me can sleep so well when we're in such an awful place - maybe they try thinking soothful thoughts to calm them to sleep, or maybe they're strong enough not to care. I wish I could be strong like that. I seem to care too much, even if my initial appearance displays me as some kind of heartless girl, with dull, emotionless eyes who doesn't seem to give a fuck about anyone. I'm not like that really. I see people getting whipped, beaten, tortured, killed, punished for things they have no control over, and I feel a pang in my heart. I'm used to seeing blood and the painful looks on people's faces when they're beaten, and the final look in their eyes before their life disappears in mere milliseconds. But still, every time it happens, it haunts me forever. I can remember all the faces.

Every. Single. One.

I stare up at the ceiling. How many nights has this happened? I have nothing else to think about, nothing to keep me occupied, so my mind trails off to places I don't want it to. It's horrible. I wish this would be the kind of thing I could talk to Tino and Berwald about, but it's not. I don't know where to start. Every time I feel the urge to talk to someone I remember no one's there, and it hurts like hell. I know they would listen, and they'd comfort me and Tino would get that look of concern in his eyes and Berwald would place his hand on my shoulder so I could lean into his chest and cry, but I don't want to bother them. I don't want them to worry about me after I've caused so many problems for them already. With my plan, if the authorities found out they were involved, they'd be executed alongside me. I'd have to watch everyone who ever took part in it die before the very people I'd have made my enemies placed a gun to the back of my head and shot. Or maybe swung an axe at my neck like they did to my family. But then, wouldn't I be able to see my family? Both my Norwegian ascendants and my Canadian guardians.

I would love to see them again, but I don't want to drag anyone down with me. So that means I have to survive.

A few hours pass of just these thoughts, and it's almost too much to bear, but then I can hear footsteps coming up the stairs and I quickly close my eyes, then the door slams open and there's a woman's voice yelling at us to _wake up, wake up, you lazy girls_ and then my eyes open, and I pretend I'm sleepy as I sit up and rub my sleep-deprived eyes. Her hand smacks the back of my head as she does to all the girls who look like they're still half-asleep. It's her way of waking us up. _She _is a large lady, with an apron and a cap, and dull brown eyes with her brown hair pulled into the tightest bun I've ever seen. Taking that out at the end of the day must hurt like hell. I rub the back of my head and stand up, stretching. I was in that same position all night, curled up in a ball, and my legs feel numb. When I'm done stretching, I feel a little bit taller. I realise I've grown, not just because I just stretched but because I've been growing quite a lot now. I went from 165 cm to about 169 cm in the last few months. We do monthly check-ups on height and weight so they know we're in order. If we get too heavy they force us to do exercise and cut down on our food until we're in the ideal weight area again. I've always been skinny, so I've never faced that punishment. I know a few girls who have.

I get dressed into the usual everyday clothes, and then head down for breakfast. It's one of the few times where I can see Tino and Berwald, so I don't mind the food much anymore. They're the best friends I've made here, no matter what that Romanian idiot says. They're not at the table first today, so I sit down in my usual spot and they arrive a few minutes later, sitting opposite me as usual. We chat idly for a few moments, then go to collect our food and sit back down.

"El- I mean...Lukas. I'm worried. Your plan needs to go into action soon, but...how do you plan on doing it?" Tino asks.

_Of course he's worried. _I sigh. "I don't...I don't really know myself, really. I guess I'll need some male clothing, but where can I get it?"

"Hey, you can borrow some of my clothes. We're nearly the same height now, so you must be about my size. Berwald here is really smart, he could probably get some sort of fake identification that the guards won't figure out. Trust me, I know the guards there, they're extremely lazy. And-" He paused and waited for a guard to pass by us, and changed the subject to make our conversation sound innocent. The guard soon passed, and he started up again. "If you make sure to blend in, you'll be fine. If you slip up, we'll try and help you out of the situation. I think you might have to go a little shorter with the hair, so do that the night before we leave. It should go fine."

I stare in wonder at him. He somehow remained calm and talked through everything - I admire that. It's a terrible situation that I've gotten him into, but somehow he's managed to look on the positive side. "Thank you, Tino." I nod at Berwald. "Berwald." He nods in return and Tino smiles and laughs nervously.

"I don't know if my idea will work, but it's worth a shot, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I mean, what could go wrong? Other than the fact that we could be executed."

We sit in silence for a few seconds, then Tino laughs and I join in, and even Berwald smiles a little. I've never been able to laugh like this before, and it attracts some weird glances from other tables. A guard stares at us and I think he wants us to be quiet, so we stop laughing and just smile at each other. "Thank you for helping me, you two. I hope you enjoy your day." I've never been so genuinely kind to other people before, since I was a kid and I was happy. Last night's worries seem all but a distant dream now. Today is a day of firsts, and for the first time I've laughed with a group of people, and I've smiled, and thanked people. It's triple the amazement.

I head back to the dorm to gather my sewing equipment for the first class - sewing lessons. But for some reason today I don't feel dread for the lesson, and I actually attend it rather cheerful. Even though I'm planning something that's almost certain to get me killed, I'm happy for now. And I'm going to embrace it. I sew well in the lesson, and the teacher compliments me, as I don't usually do too well. I don't excel in domestic things such as cooking, cleaning and sewing, I don't know a thing about how to take care of children or how to cook a two-course meal, and that's how I know the servant life isn't for me.

I was born a soldier. And now, I'm going to be one.

**I hope you enjoyed! A very special character will be introduced in the next chapter~ 3**


	9. Chapter 9

**oh my god i actually quickly updated this time. thanks for the reviews btw :) i can't reply to the guest reviews but i really do appreciate it!**

**Note: Just in case this causes any confusion, this chapter is NOT in Elsie's POV and is set outside the institution.**

"Another round!"

"AYE!"

The pub is lively, the buzz of the Saturday afternoon really starting to reach its peak, and the sound of mugs of beer clinking together is evident across the room. A barmaid hurriedly prepares another round of drinks as we sit around the table, cards in hand and empty pints next to us. It's not really a good time to be drinking, but I can't possibly turn down an invitation for drinks. I'm going to need it for tonight, anyway - some stupid formal party with ballgowns and suits and waltzing and all. It's the kind of party I don't really have a choice in attending, so I have to. It's nice to enjoy some final hours having fun before I'm thrown into hell.

The cards are shuffled and re-distributed just as the barmaid arrives at our table. As she turns to leave again, the man sitting opposite me reaches his hand out and slaps her on the butt, something a lot of men around these places do. She jumps slightly then hurries off, her fringe falling in front of her eyes and closing her off from the rest of the room. I'm not really fond of the way they treat barmaids in these towns, but there's nothing I can do about it. It's none of my business, anyway. If you're gonna sign up for that job, you're signing up for harassment and poor treatment. They don't put it in the job adverts, but everyone knows that's what really happens, and if she's stupid enough not to realise it, then who am I to care if she gets hit?

That's the kind of thing I'm conditioned into thinking, having lived here my whole life. I know there are people suffering out there, people from the more unfortunate nationalities who are locked within that massive camp, but we don't really talk about the camp here. We just play card games, attend parties, drink and enjoy life. I'm seventeen years old, which means I'm on the younger side of this group, but I can still do the same things as them. Half of these men are married, the other half are either young like me, engaged, or such alcoholics or drunken fools that no girl wants to go near them. They're still good fun, though, and when you get on their good side that's a good way to ensure yourself at least a few rounds of free drinks.

"Ready for the party then?" the man next to me asks, nudging me and raising his eyebrows. "I heard that, uh, what's her name...Katyusha would be there. Yanno, the one with the big-"

"Yeah, I know who you're talkin' about." I grin. "I ain't really lookin' forward to the party, to be honest. I'd prefer stayin' here and drinkin' throughout the night, but...well, I don't really get a choice in the matter, do I?"

He chuckles. "Them boys were in here again a couple days ago. Ya know, the ones that call 'emselves the 'Bad Touch Trio'. Bunch of troublemakers, they are. Smashed three bottles and the barmaid got soaked. Eventually her husband, the big scary guy, came and threw 'em out. Doubt they'll be returnin' for a while."

"How old are they?"

"Sixteen, I think. Fresh outta school. Somethin' tells me they failed most their exams."

"So, where they from?"

"One's from Spain, one's from that old place called Prussia or whatever, and the other's French. Real good cook, he is. If he weren't such a hooligan, he'd probably land a pretty decent-payin' job in a restaurant."

"Damn. Tha's a shame." I turn back to the cards. "You got plans for the party?"

"Eh, not really. Gonna try and get a lil' closer to Katyusha, but her creepy sister is probably gonna be there too. I don't wanna be in the wrong with her, that'd end the night with a bloody train wreck."

"Yeah. I've never really gotten what her deal is."

"She's the younger sister. Of _him._"

"Ohh."

"Yeah. She be completely dedicated to 'im as well. Wants t'marry him and all. Doubt he wants that, but she's scary as fuck. I wouldn't mess with that chick if my life depended on it."

"Yeah...hey, how's Roderich holdin' up?"

"Oh, him? He's married now. Him and that Elizaveta sealed the deal last week. Surprised you weren't invited to the weddin'."

"Yeah, I don't think he's that interested in being friends with me anymore. Dunno what happened, though. One minute he was all fine, next he barely spoke to me no more. Guess somethin' must've happened with Elizaveta. She's never liked me, either."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

The conversation ends there as we start to play another game of cards. The barmaid serves one more round before we head out, that man groping the barmaid one more time before we leave. On the way out, we run into a group of three kids. One's pretty short, with silver hair and strange red eyes. There's one with blonde hair which seems to be very well groomed, tied back into a ponytail with some hair left out at the front on either side, and the third is slightly tanned with brown hair and green eyes. The one in the middle and the blonde one is smirking, the other guy is just smiling. He doesn't look like he belongs with the other two, but there's no doubt that it's the so-called 'Bad Touch Trio'.

"_Guten tag_, bitches," the albino says, waving his hand at us. "Bet you thought you'd never see us again."

The blonde one lets out a strange laugh that sounds like "_onhonhonhon~_". Clearly that's the Frenchman.

"_Hola, mi amigos!_" The other one waves. Spanish. "Sorry to interrupt," he adds quickly.

"Ah, damnit, what do you kiddies want?" one of the men grunts. "Ya should run along, this place ain't for minors."

The albino laughs. "Don't be so lame! You're like my bruder. We just came here to have a good time."

"Yeah? Well, you ain't gonna be havin' a good time when I pound the shit outta your freaky albino face!"

"Oh, _mon dieu_, why can't you all be a bit more civilised?" the Frenchman says, sighing. "There are better ways to fix these things than fighting, _mon cher_." He smirks at the angry man. "Am I wrong?"

The man looks like he's about to explode. His face is red with anger and his eyes have a murderous look about them. "Your accent irritates me," he growls. "Don't speak that foul language."

"Calm down, _amigo_! We really do not mean any harm here. We just came for a few drinks!" The Spanish man laughs. He seems to be cheerful even when this man has proven he's ready to fight.

"Fine," he spits. "But the next time I see you in here, I won't hesitate to strangle you." He glares. "You better respect your elders, _kids_."

We leave, and I gaze in interest at the three boys. They walk past me and straight into the bar, and I can hear cheering from inside as they begin to cause a rampage in the pub. The barmaid shrieks and I decide to walk away. I don't wanna get mixed in with that kind of crowd, the delinquent teenagers who think they can cause trouble everywhere they go. I have a party to get ready for. I part ways with the rest of the gang, and head back to my house. There, I spend a bit of time sobering up after the drinks before I get ready. The party is at six o'clock, and it's currently nearly five. I have roughly thirty minutes to get ready, seeing as I need to travel to the location.

First I wash, then I get into the ridiculously classy suit my mother sent me in a package the other day, and style my hair. My hair's always been quite difficult to style, with its...spikiness. Not really sure how else to describe it. But I'm used to it now, so I style it as usual and then put on my tie and head out for the party.

At the entrance, there's already a line of people. Men dressed in suits like mine, and women with classy and elegant dresses. It's nothing out of the ordinary, just another formal party. I can see the famous Natalia and Katyusha at the entrance, with champagne glasses, Natalia's expression one of murderous rage as she glares directly at some woman, who was probably flirting with her brother. Katyusha is trying to calm her down, and that results in the champagne glass being knocked to the ground and smashing. A few heads turn, but they're mostly used to it by now.

When I reach the entrance, there's a woman with a checklist who questions who I am.

"Your name, please?"

I clear my throat. "I should be towards the top of the list...Mathias Køhler?"

She looks towards the top of the list and nods, beckoning towards the entrance. "You may proceed."

I step into the life of the party and breathe in. _This is gonna be one hell of a long night._

_**whee, denmark! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**_


	10. Chapter 10

It hits me five days before.

The fact that I could die in five days and nobody would even care, because who cares about Elsie, the Norwegian girl who hangs around by herself talking to trolls? That's something I used to do a lot in childhood - I had what my guardians called an 'imaginary friend' which was a troll and I used to talk to it whenever I was sad or had something to take off my chest. This continued into the institution as I became more and more deprived of socialisation, but in the end I was just made fun of. So I stopped. The troll sometimes tries to talk to me, but I just bow my head and ignore it. It breaks my heart. It was the last piece of my childhood, and now it rarely comes around just to see me anymore.

Who would miss the odd girl who always stands alone in the corners, sits by herself and rarely speaks to other people? The anti-social girl with 'issues'. Nobody cares about her. I imagine a few days after my death, the people I used to be friends with, my own siblings would hear my name and think _'doesn't that sound kinda familiar?' _Then shrug it off and leave. I'm not a person worth worrying about. Tino and Berwald might miss me, but they have each other. I want to try and keep them as out of the plan as I can. They're here to help me sneak in. Then I will stand alone.

The intial excitement of this mission fades into a feeling of dread and anxiety; the impending doom that awaits if I make a wrong move. Just as I think this, walking down the corridor to cookery class, one of the Russian guards eyes me suspiciously. I try not to make eye contact, duck my head and move on. I can feel their eyes burning at the back of my head before I take a sharp left and release the breath I didn't know I was holding. The guards here are terrifying, especially when they look at you - it gives you an awful sense of paranoia that you've somehow done something wrong, like your uniform is wrong or you're walking funny or someone's shoved a knife into your pocket to frame you for something.

It's happened before. People slipping knives and vials of poison into other people's pockets, then when the guards search them they get executed. Some of the people here have been here so long, made so many enemies and their hearts have turned so cold and merciless that they will go so far to make sure they're the superior ones, the feared.

I'm not feared. I'm not intimidating. I'm just silent.

I wander past two guards having an idle conversation.

"But damn, I could be there right now. I should have taken a day off. I mean, Katyusha is there! Who doesn't want to meet her in person?"

I don't know who Katyusha is, and I'm disinterested. I walk past them and they take no notice of me. It's nice to be ignored sometimes. I don't really crave attention, I haven't since I was a child and stretching out my tiny hands up to the mysterious Canadian, who took my hand and led me home. Since then I've been something in the background. Never the centre of attention, always having my head down. I refuse to let anyone see my vulnerability again. Not since-

Memories of executions and guns and corpses come back to mind, and I scowl with pain, clutching my head and pulling my hair hard to distract me from the thoughts and instead fill my head with pain. It works. I reach cookery class and head inside.

It's as usual. I don't excel in any of these domestic lessons, about cooking and sewing and cleaning and childcare. I'm not the top of the class, but then again, I'm not at the bottom either. I'm on the lower side, though.

But none of that matters if I'm going to be a soldier. All I need is strength, willpower and a crap ton of excuses to not take my shirt off.

It's dinner after cookery, and we eat in the main hall as usual. Tino and Berwald sit with me, only this time we're joined by a new guest. Romanian guy and his brown-haired 'best friend'.

"Greetings, friend," he says to me with a smirk, and I scowl. Tino looks confused and Berwald looked slightly...scary?

"Nice to meet you!" the other guy says. "My name is Milen! I'm Vladimir's best friend!"

So he does have a best friend. And his name is Vladimir.

"Pleasure," I say, half-sarcastically. "I'm Elsie."

"Got a last name?" Milen says with a cheeky grin.

"Since it's you asking, then no."

"Oh, jeez. You really have weird friends, Vlad."

Vladimir laughs. "She's a bit cold. But I have five days to get her to call me her friend or I've failed my mission."

"There's no way in hell I am ever calling you a friend, _Vladimir._

He puts on a fake-sad look. "I'm hurt." He turns to Tino and Berwald. "So, do cutie and scary-face have names, too?"

"Eh?!" Tino exclaimed. "O-oh, I'm Tino. This is Berwald. He's from Sweden and I'm from Finland."

"Nice to meet you guys. Oh, Milen's from Bulgaria, by the way."

Milen turns to look at me as if he's expecting something. I give him a cold look in return, but he persists. "Where are you from, Elsie?"

The atmosphere at the table changes. Tino shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Milen seems to sense it. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to!" He takes his last bite of food and stands up. "Race you back to the dorms, Vlad!"

"You're on!" Vladimir responds, and the two run out the room, laughing.

"Well, I'm surprised he has friends," I say as I watch him leave.

"They seem fun. Are you planning on letting them in on the plan?" Tino questions.

"No way. I've already dragged you two into this mess. I don't want to be the cause of anyone else's possible downfall."

"We'll always be here for you, Elsie." Tino stares right at me from across the table. "No matter what, okay? We're friends."

He finishes his food and stands up, leaving, followed by Berwald. I sit still for a few moments, processing the words.

_Friends._

How odd. The closest thing I've ever had to a friend is my siblings and guardians, and even then we had our ups and downs. It's such a new feeling to me, and it feels...like I'm finally something again. I'm part of a group. I'm not alone anymore, because I have friends supporting me.

I don't know whether I'm happy because I'm finally needed, or worried because now I have people to live for. And that means I can't be reckless when it comes to joining the army. I have to really be careful.

Because this time, if I screw up, my friends will be in danger. And I don't want the lose the only people I have in life who I can call friends.

**Note: HEY LOOK AN EARLY UPDATE! I wrote this on my ipad at 10pm on a school night so sorry if it seems rushed. I actually have some plans for this story now! It involves feels and happiness. I hope you stay tuned cause it's gonna be a long ride :'D**


	11. Chapter 11

**and now...shit starts to get real.**

They always say the last night is the hardest. At least, that's what a girl once said to me years ago when I was only up to her stomach and I had to crane my neck to look up at her; she patted me on the head and told me, "The last night here is always the hardest. The institution may seem like an awful place, but really...once you're about to leave, you really start to take in its beauty." I never really understood at the time. She took off her cap, placed it on my head then pressed her lips to my forehead before turning and walking to the gates.

I never saw that girl again, but I keep the cap under my bed. It gives me comfort knowing it's below there. I've only worn it once, and that was a year after she left. I wore it to watch the sixteen year olds leave the next year.

So the last proper day is filled with odd sensations. I look around and notice the intricate patterns on some of the walls, the true beauty of the place. It's horrible to be trapped in here, around the large wire fences, shut off from the rest of the world, but it is a beautiful place. I realise, now, what that girl meant. It really is a beautiful building. It seems ugly because you're trapped there, but I'll be free tomorrow. Free to be the strong person I've always wanted to be. Be a role model. Be _something_.

"Greetings, friend."

I turn around, not surprised to see Vladimir behind me, the usual smile on his face; however, there's something in his eyes that shows he's a little sad. I guess he really does think of me as his friend. I don't know if he's joining the military or not - I doubt he is.

"What do you want?"

"Even on the last day we can spend together and you're being cold. What a bore." He stands in front of me and laughs awkwardly. "Soooo...you going to be a-"

"Finish that sentence and I will kick your ass."

"Alright, alright. Joking aside...you're going to be a servant? Never pictured you as the domestic type, to be honest. You seem more like a wild spirit. Like me and Milen. Ah, if girls could join the military, you could kick some serious ass in there..."

My heart skips a beat, but I keep a poker face. "You think? Never saw you as the soldier type."

"I'm really not, but Milen's determined. I don't want to leave him before."

"Right. Well, it's nice that you two have such a close relationship."

"What, you jealous?"

"Never in a million years." I sigh. _Time to spin some lies. _

"I suppose I will miss you all." _You liar, you'll be seeing them tomorrow._

"I guess I'll have to be a servant and get used to the domestic life." _What if I have to be a man for the rest of my life?_

"I wish you luck in the military." _Whatever it takes. _"And Milen too. And Tino and Berwald."

I bow and head off into the girls' corridor before he can respond. I doubt he's going to come into the corridor. He may be a creep, but he's a decent person with some respect for other people's personal issues. My heart is racing, just because of all the lies I have to tell. My whole life is a lie from this point on. From now on, I am Lukas Bondevik. Cold, silent, deadly. I try to think as if I am Lukas, and slowly but surely I come to grips with his personality. I have to keep it like mine so it doesn't seem fake, but I can't make him exactly like me.

My voice is slightly feminine, but it could easily be the voice of a feminine boy. I don't sound too much like a girl, and I could definitely pass off as a boy with my personality. There's always been a standard set of things girls are supposed to be interested in - pretty dolls and dresses and shit. I've never liked any of those. The young boys are given toy soldiers and military tanks and uniform costumes to play dress-up in. Of course, this is all before we're shoved into classes to teach us all the skills we need for our stupid career options before we leave this goddamn place and sign up to work until we can no longer work.

The moment you can't work, they shove you into a slum in some poor town and you live in poverty, opening up a ton of possible death causes for you and an unhappy life. _I better not lose a limb out there._

I'll be careful. Lukas Bondevik plays his cards right.

Lukas Bondevik is strong.

No, not Lukas. Screw Lukas.

_I _am strong.

And my name is Lukas Bondevik.

Tino hands me the clothes the night before.

They're standard male uniform, one he had a few months ago before he got a new one. I try it on in the bathroom and it fits me perfectly. Tomorrow, I will put my normal outfit on and pretend to blend in, before sneaking out, changing clothes somewhere private before blending in within the crowd of boys. Berwald took care of fake files stating Lukas Bondevik as a 16 year old boy, 169 centimetres tall, 44 kilograms in weight, and the special skills labelled as agility and deceit. The weapon of choice, which is required to know which weapon they trained with the best during lessons in the institution, is noted down as a bow and arrow. I can shoot targets. I know because I used to go out shooting with my guardians back in Canada.

Those were some of the most liberating times in my life. Going into the woods and shooting down birds. I was raised to mercilessly kill animals, but in the army, it won't just be animals like birds and chickens. It'll be _humans_. As long as we don't get into wars, at least. But the newspapers are apparently always predicting a war on the horizon, and the guards who read the newspaper seem pretty paranoid when I listen in on them through the air vents in the girl's dorm.

Oh yeah. I'll tell you about the air vents later. There are a lot of things I've discovered in this place over the last few years that I'll probably miss. Like the tiny storage room which seemed so big as a child, but now I'm almost fully grown, I can barely move around inside it. There are secret corridors and so many mysteries. Locked boxes, locked doors, doors which are sealed shut, things which have clearly been tampered with so they cannot be opened at all... these are the things about the institution which I want to know, but I doubt I'll ever know them. Because I'm leaving. I'm finally leaving this God forsaken place, yet I feel no excitement, or sadness or anything of the sorts. Just numbness. As if my brain hasn't fully comprehended the fact that this is the final night, these steps I take through the corridors are limited and I won't be able to return once I leave tomorrow. This is my final night being Elsie. Now it's onto being Lukas Bondevik, the boy who will join the military alongside his friends Tino and Berwald.

I change back into my other outfit and store the uniform under my bed before climbing in and trying to act natural as other girls came back from showers, from changing or using the bathroom or using their final moments in the peaceful nights of the institution to walk around a little bit. The guards are always more lenient towards people leaving if they're walking around in the later hours of the evening. I mean, anyone out after midnight will be in a hell of a lot of trouble, but they allow a few extra moments for us as long as we're quiet and we don't pose a threat at all.

People seem to be more silent today. They speak in hushed voices, the usual excited buzz of the room completely gone. They talk about what they're going to do, where they're going, and they say goodbye to each other. After all, we follow a strict schedule tomorrow, with only a few free minutes in which I'm supposed to carry out my plan. And then there's the other thing that Berwald did with the files. When he created Lukas's file, he also marked Elsie down as deceased. That way, if people were suspicious about me disappearing, they'd have me down as dead. It's not uncommon for people to fall ill and die in the institution, especially when they hardly care about our well-being, and they execute people so easily. I could easily have been shot or come down with a fatal illness. But they wouldn't have me in their medical files; I expect Berwald's taken care of that as well. I'm surprised a boy as tall as him could have slipped by the guards unnoticed. But he is smart. He probably figured out when the guards change shifts and carried everything out in between.

The same woman that's woken us up every day comes in to turn off the light, and she looks over all of us. I don't quite know what the expression on her face means, but she just shakes her head, switches off the light and leaves the room. Maybe she's slightly saddened to watch the girls she's woken up for the past years leave, or maybe she's relieved. I don't know why she'd be sad. The majority of us don't even know her name, or have ever had a conversation with her which wasn't negative. I've never really heard her say anything other than "Be quiet", "Wake up" or "Come on, you lazy girls!". I shake my head and look around in the dark. Thanks to the moon illuminating the room through the window in the roof (which is permanently locked and impossible to break through, but still allows the light to come in at the crack of dawn) I can see the other girls as they go under their covers and place their heads on their pillows. I wonder if they'll sleep good. I wonder if I'll sleep good. Probably not. There's a lot going through my mind right now, as calm as I sound. I keep noticing the little things about this room, about the people I've spent a lot of time with who I've never really noticed. That one shy girl in the corner who does nothing but sit with her knees up and her back against the cold wall, as if she's permanently upset. She never speaks, just sits there and thinks. I've always wanted to start a conversation with her, but I'm never quite sure how. Now we'll never speak with each other.

Then there's Felicity. The odd Italian girl who is always happy and smiling. Even today. Perhaps I didn't notice something about her, maybe if her eyes were a little less bright and sparkly as usual; maybe I should have noticed the little details. But I'll see her tomorrow morning and no more after that. No more feeling surprisingly calm after she walks into the room, or runs, or hops in and squeals and says 'Ciao' to everybody in the room, everybody, even the shy girl who nobody notices, even though she never responds or even looks up from her fixated stare on her knees. I don't know why her knees. Maybe because that's what's right in front of her and she doesn't want to look anywhere else. I wonder if her eyes get tired from staring at the same thing. I wonder if she even notices.

Ainsley. She's not here, she's gone somewhere nobody knows, she's missing, she was a bitch when she was here, but she sparked some curiosity in me. She made me ask the proper questions to myself, like if I could get away with stabbing someone and throwing their body in a ditch, or if it's bad to feel a murderous rage swell up within your mind every time you lay eyes on someone. Vital questions in my life, which I haven't answered yet. I'm working on it, but Ainsley's gone, so I don't know if I'll be able to find the answers. Even if she returns to the institution one day, I'll be far away in the barracks, fighting. Training. Working, while she gets executed for her crimes. If she ever returns. Maybe she's already dead in a ditch and I don't have to kill her myself. Or maybe she's actually found a hiding place and she's free. I highly doubt that; there is nowhere to be free. Canada was the last place that was truly safe, and now it's gone. Well, the Canadians have gone. Canada remains, but it's deserted, empty. Everything that could be useful for survival there has probably been taken by the authorities, and now it's a completely uninhabitable place.

No matter what, I'll always remember this place. It's pretty unforgettable, really. Years of feeling a permanent anxiety in the back of your mind that the guards could lift their guns and, with a single click of a trigger, end your life whenever they felt you'd done something wrong. Having to face bullies, jerks and tall intimidating people, being separated from boys who could have been your friends and being forced to do domestic chores like cooking, sewing and studying childcare. Staying up all night because you're dreading the next day, praying that the sun won't come round and it'll stay night forever, yet the sun comes round anyway and you lie, defeated and exhausted in your bed before there's the familiar _tap, tap, tap _of shoes against wooden floorboards and the creak of the door as it opens and then the loud, booming voice of the woman commanding you to _wake up, get up, you lazy girls _and the sound of scuffling as people get out of bed and race to get into the showers first. I won't ever forget it.

I don't mean that in a soppy, _I'm leaving and I don't want to go because I'm going to miss being here _way. Either way this happens, it's bad. Staying in the institution will probably break me inside. Going to the military will place so much stress on me, and make me worry every second that I'll make one wrong move and they'll find out I'm a girl and I'll be executed. Tino and Berwald will be executed for assisting me. I don't want to be the cause of their deaths. I don't want to make any wrong moves.

Somewhere in the midst of these thoughts, my eyes close. The thoughts become more calm and soon they're completely gone as my memory of the day drains. My memories drain and all that matters is sleeping. Never opening my eyes again. And with that, I fall asleep properly for the first time in forever.

"Wake up, you lazy girls! Come on, get up! Quit slacking, ya useless warts, you're leavin' today! Aye, don't give me that look, young missy, or I'll put a fryin' pan to yer head before ya know what hit ya! Get up. _Up. _UP, I SAID, YA SLACKERS!"

And I wake up to the oh-so familiar voice, yet it's speaking a lot more today. Usually she just repeats the same words over and over, but today she actually says something different. "You there, Miss, what'cha lookin' at? Don't just gape at me like a bloody fish, get _up _and go take your shower! Come _on_, girls, we don't have all day!" It takes a while to realise that she was referring to me, and I quickly get out of bed, making sure to casually slip my foot under the bed to check that the uniform's still there. It is, and I rush down to the shower, where the room's already clogging up. A guard comes and forces us to get into an orderly queue, and it takes a good twenty minutes before I can get a shower. We rarely get proper showers unless we miss mealtimes to have one, which nobody does because we cherish all the food we can get. We basically live off two-minute showers, once in the morning and once in the evening to keep us clean. But this is the last time I'll shower here. Next time, I have to be in the barracks and I have to try and avoid people seeing me from the front. I hope they have private showers there, but if they don't, I'll have to just rely on Tino and Berwald to cover me.

I jump into one of the showers, washing as quickly as possible before getting out. As long as you're fast, nobody complains. For the slower girls, people end up tutting and complaining and some even yank the curtain of the shower open to yell at whoever's inside, which must be pretty humiliating. I've never had that issue because I time my showers pretty accurately, so I get everything done then get out as fast as I can. We usually take longer in the evenings if we wash our hair, but there isn't as much of a rush in the evenings.

I head back to the dorm wearing my nightclothes, because it's easier to just change back into them then get changed properly in the dorm than to get changed in the shower room when it's so crowded. I change into the female uniform, and subtly stuff the male uniform up so it's wrapped around my stomach. I check myself out in the bathroom mirror to make sure the uniform I'm hiding underneath doesn't make the other look bulky, and once I'm satisfied, I push my hair under a cap as well as I can and head out. I can see a few guards holding files, and I realise that my plan's supposed to go into action before they ask your name so they can find your file and give it to you so you present it to your escort later.

I rush into a nearby boys' bathroom and shut the cubicle door. I'm glad there aren't boys in here, or else that would be kinda awkward. A few come in, but I'm okay now. Once I leave the bathroom, I'll be Lukas Bondevik, not Elsie. I change into the uniform and I hear someone tapping their foot outside. Wondering what to do with the other uniform, I shove it in the bin and pile the disgusting pile of tissue papers on top of it to conceal it, then flush and open the cubicle again. The boy waiting stares at me, probably wondering why I seem so unfamiliar. I give him a cold stare and move on. I sort my hair out in the mirror, and realise I actually convincingly look like a boy. There's a boy next to me, and he passes me some scissors. "They won't let you in with a fringe that long. Might wanna trim it a bit, lad." He slaps me gently on the back, and I nod.

I lift the scissors to my fringe and start trimming it. Once it's shorter, I really do look like a boy.

"There! You looked kinda girly before, anyway. If you're joining the military, you'll wanna look manly." He takes back the scissors and leaves the bathroom, before I can thank him for the help.

I leave as well, and head over to the desk where they're handing out the files for boys. I stand and the man at the desk looks up at me, raising an eyebrow, expecting my name. "Lukas Bondevik," I say, and he looks through the files of boys with last names beginning with 'B'. He finds my file, and hands it over. I thank him quickly and take it, hurrying along. My heart beats underneath my uniform, and I place a hand to my chest. I can feel the thumping, and I hope nobody else notices that I'm trembling. It's causing me a lot of anxiety, even if I remain calm on the exterior.

I go outside, where most of the boys are waiting. I can see Tino and Berwald, who wave me over. I join them, relieved that Vladimir and Milen aren't there. They might ask questions, and that's the last thing I need.

"Lukas!" Tino says. I'm glad he's used to that name now. "Do you feel okay? You look slightly pale."

"Yeah, I'm fine." I switch my voice to a more masculine tone, and Tino seems surprised at it, so I guess it's good enough to pass as a male voice. "Everyone gets a little nervous on their last day, I guess."

Tino laughs lightly. "Yeah. I'm pretty nervous. Berwald always seems calm, but I think he's a bit nervous too. We're all in this together, right?" He smiles.

I wish I could smile as much as him. "I suppose we are." I look out, where a carriage arrives. "What's that for?"

"I don't know. Usually the driver comes out and states who sent them, and then they call a group of people to go into that carriage. People from the same career path, but they usually take them in a few batches because there's so many of us.

A group of girls are called out, ones who want to become... well, one of the career paths I would never consider. I kind of admire their courage. It must be hard to make that decision and walk out, knowing everyone is judging you for choosing that career. More carriages arrive, more batches of girls taken, a few batches of boys, then they call my name out. Then Berwald's. Tino isn't in the same batch as us, and we leave him, promising to meet him as soon as we arrive. I don't know what to expect. Maybe we won't be able to see each other for a while. Berwald and I make a moment of eye contact, which somehow seems like a promise to stay by each other's side throughout this journey. They take in our files and beckon towards the carriage doors, and we enter. The carriage, on the inside, is pretty luxurious. It's red, and has a window on the right side which Berwald and I sit by.

We don't talk to each other throughout the whole journey. Just sit as the other boys around us talk, and I stare out the window, wondering... just what the hell have I done? I'm dressed like a boy, hair cut like a boy's, heading out to pretend to be like a boy until I'm at least thirty. That's how long you serve the military for, if you don't drop out and become a homeless person who begs on the streets and usually ends up dying of starvation or exposure.

Somewhere along the line, puberty's gonna do _something _to me. Some day I'm gonna lose the twelve-year-old body and start getting some curves. And how am I supposed to disguise it when that happens? Whenever 'that time of the month' comes around, what am I gonna do? They used to keep those specific products in the girls' bathroom in the institution, but it won't be in a boys' bathroom. I resist the urge to scream in the carriage and instead keep all the screaming internal. I've made a mistake. I'm worrying, I'm stressing, and I don't know if I can make it outside the carriage without losing the strength in my legs and falling. I'm usually stronger than this. Vladimir even said I could kick some serious ass in the military, yet how am I supposed to kick ass when I can't even save my own ass? When I can't ever make the right decisions? Sure, being a servant isn't the ideal life, but I could die in the military. I could be executed, I could die in battle if an actual war breaks out, or I could just die from stress right now. There's a very little chance of me surviving till I'm thirty now.

Last time there was a war, humanity was torn to shreds. Now that there's another war possibly on the horizon, what will happen now?

I guess I'll find out, seeing as, if there is another war, I'll be caught right in the middle of it.

**whoooo a long chapter.**

**I wrote this over the course of about three days if you don't count the days in between where I didn't write. so sorryyy. but it's here now, and I'm kinda excited for the rest of this story. There are a lot of scenes I want to write but I can't because they're right in the middle of the story and this is the beginning of the . anyway, pleasee leave a review! it means a lot to me :D I hope you enjoyed!**


	12. AUTHOR'S NOTE & short break

Hey guys!

I'll take down this chapter once I return from my break, BUUUT I am currently participating in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) which takes place every November.

Basically I have to write 50,000 words of a novel I'm working on in the whole month.

It's 14 days into it and I'm currently at 30,000 words, so I have another 20k to write D: but I think I can do it!

So basically this won't be updated (or Mischief Managed if you read that) until either late November if I reach my goal early; otherwise, it will continue again in November!

I'm sorry for the huge hiatus, so I'll try write a good chapter when I next update this story :D

-matsuoka gou


	13. Chapter 12

**OKAY so it's been a while, and I'm sorry for making y'all wait on this chapter! But I had Nanowrimo (which I won for the first time!) and after that I had a huge lengthy writers block which prevented me from actually having the motivation to sit down and write something. But after a long wait, here is Chapter 12!**

**NOTE**: I know it sounds like it, but the commander guy is not Germany!

~-~

_"Look, there's your target, Elsie." He points at a red spot on the tree, which is about ten metres away from me. "Try aiming at that red spot. Then focus on it, and throw. You know what to do. I believe in you."_

_I hold the silver knife in my right hand, and I line myself up with the red spot. I throw the knife too early, before I've focused, and it zips through the air and lands on the ground a few inches to the right of the tree. He hands me another knife. "Don't be distracted by one failure. You'll reach your target, trust me. Just keep trying." I throw again. It's too low. Again. Too high. Again. Misses completely. Again. Low. Again. Miss. Again. Too weak a throw, it lands on the ground. He keeps telling me to go again, again, again, until it lodges itself right in the centre of the red spot by complete luck. He tells me to do it again, and takes out the knife from where it hit._

_I throw again, and it's a hit. He pulls the knife out again._

_"Again. Do it again. Practice. Hit. The. Target. Once you're out there in real life, you're not allowed to miss. You have to strike, every single time."_

_So I throw it again. And it hits. He grabs it by the handle and yanks it from the tree. There's now a clear dent in the tree, and other marks from my misses. He takes all the other knives that he can recover and gives them all back to me. "Let's move on."_

~-~

As soon as we arrive, we're greeted not so kindly by a very tall and muscular man with blonde hair and blue eyes. The first thing he does is eye us all over, then tell us to get into equal rows and stand completely stationary so he can examine us. I don't see Tino anywhere, so Berwald and I stand next to each other. I can see Milen, but no Vladimir. I recognise various other faces, and there are also people joining the army who aren't from the institution. They'll probably be given the higher ranking jobs, or whatever jobs you get in the military. Surely the boys are well-educated on this subject, of what goes on in the military, but I'm clueless as to what's going on here.

"Right, you useless load of good-for-nothings. Let's see what you're made of. You, boy!"

A dark-haired boy stands to attention. "Yes, sir!"

"What's your name?"

"Nic Moschella, sir!"

Italian. The name Nic must be short for something else, but the surname sounds Italian.

"Well, Nic, why have you joined the military? Got any skills you'll surprise me with? You're quite a short lad, aren't you. Do you think you have the capability to fight for this army?"

"Yes, Sir! I have joined because I wish to offer up my life to help maintain the peace of the world, sir!"

"As I thought. Pathetic." He moves on, and starts questioning others. I memorise the names. Finlay MacAngus. Teodor Gaspari. Fintan Petrov. Kaspar Bogdanov. Nye Kavanah. Different names from different nationalities, mostly the ones from the institution, the less fortunate nationalities who were locked up within the fences and confined and controlled. He comes up to stand right in front of me, and I look up at him, keeping my face stoic and emotionless. I don't want him to think I'm scared, or vulnerable, like some of the other boys were.

"So, who are you, pretty boy? You look like you don't have as much muscle on you as the others. What are you here for?"

"My name is Lukas Bondevik." The new name sounds odd when I'm referring to myself, but I'll have to get used to it. I can't slip up. I keep my voice in the same low tone, without making it seem forced. It's harder than I thought - however, the sheer fact that if I mess up I'm dead is enough to make me put the effort in. I wonder how long I can keep my voice for when it's strained like this. "I'm here because I want to fight. Even if I seem to not have the strength you're looking for, most of my talents lie in stealth than just muscle. Which is a skill that is needed in an army, just as much as someone who can lift heavy weights." My voice sounds a lot more monotonous than usual, but I don't really know what else I was expecting. I've always come off as emotionless, even when I didn't mean to. Sometimes it offends people, sometimes it makes people stop talking to me. Because who would want to talk to someone who doesn't give off any emotion? Whose voice never makes it seem like they're interested? Who acts like a jerk to everyone because they don't want anyone to be close to them in fear of their fate ending up the same as the last ones they let in?

I don't usually dwell on my history; thinking about it too much gives me a headache, and a panging in my heart. But it has affected the way I act a lot. I had just started to open up to my new family when suddenly they were all killed before my very eyes, and the ones who weren't killed suffered the same fate as me - locked in the institution and 'tamed', as the soldiers who dragged us from our once safe home to the institution told us. I never saw my family again after that. They might have died in the institution, from natural causes or from execution. I don't know.

"Well, Lukas." The man's voice brings me back to reality and I continue to look him directly in the eye. "You better be as stealthy as you say you are, otherwise you'll be sent to work in those bloody meadows before you even know what's hit ya." He moves onto Berwald, who replies to every question with very short answers before the man gets extremely irritated and begins to turn red with rage, before he calms himself down, grits his teeth and moves on. It's hilarious, because Berwald is about the same height as him, so the man isn't as intimidating when he's not looking down on him. I wonder if Berwald was scared, if he was just like me; seemingly emotionless. I feel like we could get along because of that, if we related to one another. And we both want to protect Tino.

He goes through the rest of the guys. I spot as he calls out the names "Vladimir", "Milen" and eventually "Tino", which makes both myself and Berwald breathe out a huge sigh of relief. Tino is here, along with us, as is Vladimir and Milen... who aren't in on the plan. They will probably recognise me, and then we'll have to discuss things. As for the rest of the guys from the institution... well, I never really made a huge name for myself, nor did I have a reputation for anything. So I doubt anyone will really know who I am. It's a good thing, really; I'm just an unfamiliar face, and if they have seen me around the institution, especially in the last few days after my haircut when I spent a lot of time on the table with Tino, Berwald, Milen and Vladimir, they'll find it slightly familiar. I just hope nobody downright knows who I am and sees through me. If they do... well, they better be on my side or I'm dead.

Once he's done trying to intimidate everyone (and succeeding for the majority), he steps back and analyses us all once again, eyes scrutinising all of us as if bearing into our minds and weighing up our worth to him. He looks pained, like he isn't happy with what he's got. "Well, all you little maggots better be useful for something other than cleaning the lavatories!" he shouted out, his threatening tone ringing out across the overwrought silence of the courtyard in which the new recruits stood, lined up like animals ready for slaughter.

I do not want to be seen like that. I keep my chin up high, resisting my usual urges to let my head hang low in a natural instinct to keep myself concealed. I never did like walking with my head up; I hated the look of confidence which so defied what I really am. I became adjusted to keeping my head down and getting on with whatever I had to do. My days became worthless, life was no longer something I wanted to tolerate living, but I carried on with the pathetic dream in mind that one day it will get better. How naive I was. Is this fate, of serving the military and potentially ending my own life, is this really better than the fate I was destined for, to leave the institution and become a servant? Will I truly find happiness here?

I am selfish. So, so selfish; I dragged two people into this mess all because I wasn't satisfied with something. And I hate myself for it. My stubbornness and my habit of only caring for myself after years of having no one else to care for led two other people into a situation that, if revealed, could get them killed. And the only reason they assisted me is because I'm Norwegian and they want information. Tino and Berwald didn't seem like the type to use people, or force information out of them - they seemed like the type to fairly exchange favours and information, so both sides got the best thing possible out of it; I suppose that is what this is. A fair deal between friends. Lord knows how I got friends out of my nationality, something usually considered dreadful and grounds for execution. All because some Norwegian people rebelled against the system once, I have to pay the price. And all the innocent Norwegians who died from this rebellion.

Only when I stop to think about it do I realise the truth; we truly do live in a dystopian world.

~-~

The first evening in the military camp is one of what the officers deem a 'celebratory meal', which seems to translate to bread that isn't stale ("for once", as one of the older soldiers pointed out) and some soup. It's not bad tasting, just very bland. Then again, I'm adjusted to bland meals. I haven't had a proper meal since Christmas, when the institution gave us some treats like an orange alongside our normal dinner, and some meat which wasn't either rock hard or fatty as hell.

There is idle chatter all around as people get to know one another, but I stay alongside Tino and Berwald. We eat in a comfortable silence, Tino occasionally making comments only to be met with grunts in response or a small gesture. Eventually he turns to Vladimir and Milen on the table behind and begins making conversation. I finish the last of my soup and take my final sip of water, and furrow my brows. What now?

"Do we go to the cabins?" I question Berwald, who shrugs.

"I guess." He speaks in a low voice, which always oddly surprises me. Tino turns back around with a bright smile.

"If we all go in the same area of the cabin, we can help you, uh, cover up, Lukas!" he says, lowering his voice for the final part so only we can hear it.

I nod. "That sounds good, then." I almost forgot that I am supposed to be a boy, a d I thought I'd have to room with girls. It was pretty stupid of me, considering I am probably the only female in this room and the rest of the girls who left the institution alongside me are probably being placed in large mansions to do dirty work for the master or mistress of the house, or being put in even worse places like brothels or clubs.

Honestly, when it came down to it, I'm quite lucky to be having some adventures whilst they remain enclosed in their small world. If only I'd chosen to be a sailor, I could have travelled the world; well, I get sea-sick very easily, so I doubt that would work out. And my social skills are far below average, so being a merchant was never the right choice for me. The military is the only path I can take.

Vladimir and Milen move to our table, bringing some new guys with them. "These are Finlay and Fintan. Finlay and Fintan, this is Lukas, Tino and Berwald. Yeah, Tino is the happy one, Berwald is the quiet one and Lukas is the one that looks like a corpse half the time."

I shoot Vladimir a glare. "I dislike you, Vladimir."

"You seriously remind me of a girl I knew back at the institution."

I try not to flinch. "Do I?"

"Yeah. She didn't like me either. Tried to be friends, but..." He clicks his tongue and shrugs.

I nod slowly. "Right." I stand up, lifting my tray off the wooden surface of the table. "Is there anywhere to put this?"

"Over there, near the door."

"Thank you."

Milen grins at me and I ignore him. I walk towards the place where the trays are put away, but I'm abruptly stopped when someone walks right in front of me. My eyes trail upwards from where I'd been fixated on the ground, and I come face to face with a shocked-looking red-haired guy. His expression twists into a grin and he laughs lightly. "My apologies," he says in a thick Irish accent. "Didn't see ya there!"

I slowly move past him and put my tray down, and he stares at me. "Any reason why ya seem to have lost yer voice?" he asks, and I turn to him reluctantly.

"I haven't lost my voice," I say.

"Then speak!" he says cheerfully. "That's what voices are for, right?"

"I prefer not to." My voice comes out in a monotone once again.

His smile falters. "Damn, you're an odd one. Ya got a cool voice, though. Quite high for a boy."

"Shut up," I grumble.

He chuckles. "Don't worry, bro, I'm only teasin' ya. Ya make it quite easy."

"Can I leave now or are you going to hold me up even longer?"

"Just wanted to know where yer from."

"None of your business," I finish, and walk out the door. I hear Tino's hurried footsteps behind me and the slow clumps of Berwald's shoes.

"Luk-aaas, don't be so cold towards people!" Tino whines.

"He had it coming. Nosy bastard," I mutter.

"C'mon, you gotta try and make some friends. Here, if I ask him not to ask you any intrusive questions again, will you at least attempt to get along with him? I know Finn, and he's a pretty cool guy, if you can actually distinguish what he says from his accent."

"Fine. But if he- no, if anyone asks me-"

"It's fine, E- Lukas."

The close slip of my name causes us both to tense up slightly, but we decide to head to the cabins before we make any real mistakes. Tomorrow we start training, so we need rest. We reach the cabins and are amongst the first there, being able to claim our bunk beds in the corner. Berwald goes on the bottom bunk in the corner and I go on the top bunk, then Tino takes the bottom bunk of the bed next to it and says once one of his friends like Finn comes in he'll ask them if they want to share.

Once the rest of them join us, the whole cabin engages in a conversation. I am perfectly content just watching them and listening. Nobody bothers me, and nobody asks me any intrusive questions again. I lean back against the wall and let out a soft sigh. It's been a long day, and there are many more to come, weeks and weeks of hard labour and intense training with scarcely any breaks.

It's not the most overjoying thing, but it sure beats doing nothing at the institution. After years of being confined into one camp with the same people day in, day out, same routine, so eerily similar that each day blends in until you don't know the date anymore... trust me, it's nice to have a little adventure afterwards.

Once the conversation is over, someone leans over and the lights are turned off. I force my eyes closed, and begin to drift off, dreaming of adventures beyond the world I know sometime, and sometime soon.

But until then, I am content. As of now.

**Thank you for reading and please leave a review, they make my day! :D**


	14. ANOTHER AUTHOR'S NOTE (sorry!)

bc some guests left reviews asking questions and I can't pm them answers, also I have to make an announcement anyway.

**Minna: **_this is a pretty good story idea, i guess. and it's written really well. my only problem with it is the term "some kind of weird Mexican wave"- what exactly is that supposed to mean? i'm not even sure if it was insulting the Mexican race but it sounds pretty strange. also, couldn't she just lie about her race? it's not that difficult?_

Okay firstly thanks :) second of all, a Mexican wave is like this weird thing where someone starts off something at the start of like, a circle or a line or something e.g. throwing their arms up like a wave motion and then as soon as they begin it the person next to them does the same action so everybody starts it a little after the person before them and it creates a sort of wave effect! pretty sure it's not insulting the mexican race!

the definition is: _an effect resembling a moving wave produced by successive sections of the crowd in a stadium standing up, raising their arms, lowering them, and sitting down again._

And I know that she could have lied about her race, but tbh I wrote this after watching something that inspired me and uploaded it mindlessly not really expecting to get any attention on it, I just kinda liked how it came out and now I can't really go back and change it because it was the one key thing that led to all the events. Trust me, if it wasn't key to the story I would have removed it because it doesn't really make sense but there's not much I can do now, which sucks :/

**Gerita: **_Wait, why are Norwegians considered traitors to humanity?_

that is to be revealed later in the story! ^-^ I'm still figuring out this story, I know some key things that will happen and I am working on developing a proper plan for it soon! I didn't expect people to read it as few people read my fanfics on the most part so I'm a little overwhelmed on how many loopholes are gonna end up in this fic because I never planned it properly. I've always been better at doing the actual writing rather than the logistics behind the story, so bear with me please!

aaand now for the announcement!

I'm going back to school tomorrow which is honestly extremely stressful, and I've been having some problems within my friendship group (not just stupid arguments, an actual proper major problem in which my best friend outed me as pansexual to my other friend and that caused a major blow-up but I'm not gonna go fully into it) which means my creative energy is like. gone. But it always manages to resurface at some point! I'm an irregular updater so I'll like, update two chapters within the space of 48 hours then maybe go a week without updating. But I am determined to finish this story at some point in the future.

Thank you for reading so far and I hope you weren't too disappointed with this not being an actual chapter? I kinda wanna write a chapter but I am undoubtedly going to be kicked off the laptop in the next 30 mins and I can't seem to update fanfics on ipad because everything goes wrong.

until next time~!


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